Crimson Africa
by Shady-777
Summary: Now with BONUS ALTERNATE ENDING! Wesker's son Alan is aided by Chris and the other STARS in a rescue mission unfolding in an infected African village. But Wesker is none too pleased with this alliance, and Alan is having issues of his own...
1. A Visit to Bayview

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Author's notes: Ok, for the most part, this is a PG-13 story, hence keeping the PG-13 overall rating. However, there are a few later chapters that could be considered 'R'. I will warn you in advance with a heading at the beginning of such chapters.

This story is a sequel of sorts to " A New Tide" though I believe it can stand on it's own if you have not read that. However, reading " A New Tide" will help you understand this story a little better. 

This story takes place roughly around five years after " A New Tide" and is solely from Alan Wesker's point of view. ( That's Albert Wesker's son, in case you haven't already figured it out from the summary. ) =^-^=

Jill, Chris, Carlos, Rebecca, Barry, Steve, Claire, Wesker, and other characters will appear in this fic, and there will be a bit of romance. 

Oh, and there will also be a tiny bit of swearing though I wont overdo it. ;) 

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I hope you don't see any typos, but if you do you'll know what I meant. Hopefully.

So here's my fic! Enjoy!

( Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil. I'm not sure who does, exactly, but they're probably pretty rich and don't need my money. The only things I own are my story and the characters I have invented for it. )

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Chapter 1

I walk through the streets of Bayview, Oregon. The sun is out and shining brightly in the cerulean sky. I adjust my custom black sunglasses to a more comfortable position along the bridge of my nose and continue my purposeful stride down the sidewalk.

All around me, people go about their daily routine of life, oblivious to the dangers that lurk in the dark of the night. They continue to mow their lawns, check their mail, pull out of their driveways. 

Sometimes I envy them. Such simple lives. They say ignorance is bliss, but I know better. What you don't know _can_ hurt you. I've seen it too many times in my twenty-three years of life.

I am Alan Wesker, son of the infamous Albert Wesker. And I find my thoughts drifting to the past.

My life story--where to start?

Well, I really don't remember much about when I was _really_ little, I don't imagine that most people do. But I do remember growing up in a somewhat privileged family. I got almost all of the material things I asked for, and I had caring parents. 

Or so I thought.

When I was eight years old, I got a little sister, Spade, to share my life with. An unusual name, I know. My name was almost Ace. Or so I've heard. What a pair we would have made! Ace and Spade. Reminds me of the ace of spades in a card deck. Luckily, my parents liked the sound of the name Alan better.

For the most part, my mother was a stay-at-home wife, the kind that packs lunches for their kids when they go to school and keeps up the house. I can vividly remember the delicious scent of warm cookies fresh from the oven almost every day after I got home from school. Then, as I would munch mouthfuls of chocolaty cookie goodness, she'd ask how my day had went, if I had made any new friends, did I have my homework…the usual.

Sometimes I'd have to help with my sister when she was younger, but more often then not afternoons and evenings found me outside playing in the big field out back or inventing new games to play with my friends. I liked cartoons, but I only watched them when I couldn't be outside which, thinking back on it now, was probably why I stayed in such good shape over the years.

My father often worked long and odd hours at Umbrella, the 'pharmaceutical' company, and I never really saw him a whole lot on workdays. Some days he got home around the same time I did, but I was usually late into the evening before he got back from work.

I really had no real idea about what my father did at his job, other than the stuff he told me about being a scientist. 

Of course, that led to some assumptions on my part, most of them incorrect. 

Ah, the innocence of youth.

I didn't know it back then, but my father was a mad scientist if ever there was one. I thought he was working on cures for illnesses or whatever, when in actuality he and his friend Dr. William Birkin were working on viruses! Just like some of the villains on my cartoon shows. The ones I always hoped the heroes would catch.

Anyway, I had no clue to my father's true nature.

Though he was never the overly-affectionate type, whenever he was home he seemed so…fatherly. He used to sneak us kids extra junk food before dinner when Mom wasn't looking. Made wisecracks. Helped me with my homework whenever Mom was too busy. Sometimes we'd even play baseball in the field, the whole family.

Not that he didn't have his darker side. There were times he'd get off of work in a horrible mood; something must have went wrong in the research or whatever. I dreaded those days. Days he would snap at Mom--and even Spade and I--over the littlest things. And being punished by him was a nightmare.

Still, it was never _too_ extreme, and I could certainly never have imagined him killing anyone.

All that was to change.

It was around the time he founded the Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. branch--when I was already in my teens--that I started noticing a change in him. For the worst. It seemed he always came home in a bad mood. He was always complaining. He acted like Spade and I almost didn't even exist.

I could tell it upset Mom. I'd find her alone in her room some nights, crying. She never told me why, but I knew.

I finally got up the nerve to confront my father about it, and to this day I can still remember how much that wicked smile on his face scared me. It was cold. Ruthless.

He paid more attention to us from then on, but not in the way I would've liked.

Some of the stories he told about his work at Umbrella fell nothing short of morbid. Hideous mutations. Co-workers get eaten alive or mutated in the most horrible of ways. Huge, powerful Tyrants being the perfect bio-organic-weapons and the next step in warfare. 

We'd hear about a shoot-out or murder on the news, and he'd side with the killers saying that the victims had been foolish and deserved what they'd got. He just seemed not to care about anyone or anything.

Then came the nights I will never forget.

My mother, sister, and I were just vegging out in front of the TV when a news flash interrupted our program saying that the Spencer Mansion had been blown to bits.

We were all worried, knowing my father's S.T.A.R.S. teams had been headed there. We stayed tuned, called the station…everything, but to no avail.

The S.T.A.R.S. were M.I.A.

It wasn't until the following night--after we'd already heard that Barry, Chris, Jill, and Rebecca appeared to be the only survivors--that my father came in around one a.m., surprising us all.

He was dressed all in black with his perpetual shades and, to me, looked like he hadn't even been scratched. But he was acting strange and seemed far more happy than he should have been about the Spencer disaster.

He was changed. I could tell. And it scared me.

He then told us everything that had happened at the mansion. _Everything_. More than I wanted to know.

He talked about how stupid the S.T.A.R.S. were and how he had set them up for Umbrella, and about the T-virus and the monsters. He laughed as he described in gory detail the fate that had befell each member of his team. How he had held Barry's family hostage to get his assistance, even how he himself had murdered Enrico with a single gunshot.

And Enrico had already been wounded! How ruthless is _that_? 

He seemed to think it was all very funny and seemed very proud of his work. 

I thought I'd be sick for a week.

He even informed us he'd joined a new corporation, HCF.

However, when we told him about his surviving teammates, he went totally off the deep end and I thought I saw something glow red behind his sunglasses; red like the eyes of a demon. He growled that he would have his revenge, especially on Chris.

I hadn't the guts to ask him _why_ he wanted revenge; I was afraid of what he might do.

Later, he seemed to cool down, and we moved out of Raccoon City days before the T-Virus reached it.

Weeks passed, and Dad seemed to be raking in a lot of money with his new job. But when I heard HCF was going to unleash a virus on an unsuspecting city, I knew I had to stop it. So I sought out Chris Redfield, and together with his sister Claire we went to the unnamed island to prevent a catastrophe.

Only, we were a little late for that. It seemed that one of HCF's other enemies had already beaten us to the quick, and the entire island was overrun with zombies, monsters, and…sadly…at least one Tyrant.

I learned a lot of things there. I learned why I should never stand directly behind Chris. I learned that my dad had a super-virus that made him supernaturally strong and fast. I learned that zombies are easy to outrun and that hunters will take direct orders from me.

Oh, yeah, and I can't see why my dad thought Tyrant was so special. That thing tried to kill me!

It was Chris who'd saved my life, distracting it away from me so I could escape.

I don't care what my father says about Redfields, they are good people. Chris and Claire probably became the closest friends I've ever had, even when they found out who I was related to.

However, I must agree with Dad about the Ashfords. They are _horrible _people! They're so caught up in themselves that they can't see anything else, and that Ash is one of the snobbiest, _rudest_ people I have ever had the misfortune of meeting.

It all came down to a big fight in an underground cavern. My father ended up impaling Chris through the lower stomach with a metal pipe. I'd helped Claire pull it free, but, unfortunately, Alexia came up and grabbed Claire. To make things worse, Alexia has a super-virus too. It's not like my father's, but it does give her special abilities. 

To save Claire, I rammed a knife through her chest , and the last thing I remember was an intense pain in my arm and a brief weightless sensation before I blacked out.

When I awoke, I was…different.

Dad had given me his virus through his own blood in order to save my life. He said I would have died without it.

But is that really true? Even now, five years after all that has happened, I have to wonder.

In any case, the virus changed me. In addition to heightening my physical senses to well beyond that of a normal person, I am stronger and faster. _Much _stronger and faster. I can break bullet-proof glass with just one finger, and I can easily outrun a car on the highway. Of course, I can't keep up such speed for too long.

There is little that goes on that I do not see or hear, and my sense of smell is such that I can detect a barbeque from over a mile off if the breeze is just right.

I do not injure easily, and when I do I heal within minutes, sometimes even seconds, without any telltale signs I was even hurt.

Immediately after Dad had revived me with the virus--something which he likes to call T-2 Virus--we moved away from my mother and sister and I haven't seen them since, much to my regrets. He said that being around them would only put them in danger. Of course, I believe that is a bunch a hogwash, but try as I may, I still haven't been able to find them over the years. Wherever they're hiding, they're hiding good. 

Maybe one of these days I'll find them. 

My father took a keen interest in teaching me to hone my skills, and I have developed into quite the able fighter. I can kill with my bare hands. Even though I carry a gun with me, I seldom use it.

Dad had been training me for the day when we would go up against Alexia together. I saw no problem with that; after all, the bitch nearly killed me.

But I have to wonder what the virus has cost me. What was sacrificed in order for me to attain such power?

My father said he had sold his soul.

Had mine likewise been used as a bartering chip?

A disturbing question.

I try to push such thoughts aside and continue my walk.

A bright yellow rubber ball bounces out in front of me, and I wait for it's owner--a cute little girl around the age of four or five--to go out and retrieve it. She barely notices me as she scoops the ball off the sidewalk and throws it back into her yard.

But her mother does.

" Hey there cutie! Where are _you _headed today? "

I turn my head in her direction and she winks at me, hoping to catch my attention.

She is sitting out on the front steps of her house; smoking a cigarette and blowing circles of smoke around her tasseled brown hair like a halo. She grins at me; her teeth in desperate need of a trip to the dentist's office. She looks to be in her late thirties or early forties and is very thin and scraggly looking. I can smell illegal drugs all over her clothes, and I instantly feel sorry for her young daughter having to live in such an environment.

" Sorry, I'm not looking for a date." I state flatly, cutting off all hopes she may have had about the two of us at the pass.

She gives an indignant snort, but says nothing more.

I walk right on past her.

I am really not surprised she noticed me though. The blonde-haired guy dressed almost exclusively in black and wearing sunglasses is not something you see every day on a regular basis.

I am five feet and ten inches tall, around 170 pounds, with neatly-kept blonde hair. I have a good figure and look neither too scrawny nor too bulked up.

I have been told by more than one girl that I am handsome. 

I have been told by more than one person that I look a great deal like my father, and it is this last that has me worried as I reach the B.P.D. building.

Days ago, while I was in the area, I learned of the existence of a newly-formed S.T.A.R.S. branch which was supposedly run by Chris Redfield.

So I'm thinking _hey, I wonder how my old friends are getting along and maybe I could join the team. _Seems to me they could use someone with my skills on the force, and I've wanted to join S.T.A.R.S. ever since my father founded the Raccoon branch. It's not like I have anything else to be doing right now anyway. And it's about time I went out and started making a living of my own rather than relying on my dad for support. 

I freeze just outside the door to the Bayview Police Department.

What if this is all a really bad idea? Chris may not remember me too well, and I know my father would certainly not approve. 

Then again, this is my life: not my father's. I can't live my whole life based on his principals. I ask myself what I have to fear--I'm just as powerful as he is now, or probably pretty close to it. Besides, it couldn't hurt to say hi, could it?

After a moment's hesitation, I open the door and step inside a cool, air-conditioned room. My eyes immediately adjust to the darker lighting of the room, and I can see a young redheaded lady at the main desk. The faint smell of fingernail polish and cleaners lingers in the air.

She looks up when I walk in.

" Hi! " she chirps as I approach her desk. She is clad in the normal police outfit--not with the elite S.T.A.R.S. unit. The plaque on her desk reads 'Stacy.' 

Stacy grins far too wide, exposing several pearly-white teeth. " How may we help you, Mister? " 

I am to the point. " Chris Redfield, is he in? "

Stacy rifles through a stack of papers on her desk before answering. " Yes." She eyes me curiously, suspicion flickering across her face. " Do you have an appointment? "

I shake my head. " No. I'm just an old friend, live out of town. Haven't seen him in years. Is he busy? "

" Well, he was holding a briefing earlier, but he should be done now. I can page him."

Ok. That'll work. I nod my agreement. " Thank you."

Stacy picks up a yellowed phone and punches a few buttons on a panel next to her computer. 

" Your last name, please? "

" Wesker." I say without thinking, and regret the word as soon as it leaves my mouth.

" Mr. Redfield, there's a Mr. Wesker here to see you! " Stacy calls into the phone.

I could slap myself. Stupid! So Stupid! I just _know_ Chris is going to get the wrong idea about this! What was I thinking?

Because I have a heightened sense of hearing, I can hear the sounds of hurried footsteps coming from behind the door that is behind and to the left of Stacy's reception desk. It becomes obvious to me that more than just Chris is coming.

I don't have a good feeling about this.

Stacy turns to her computer and resumes her work as if I were not even there.

Seconds later, the door bursts open and Chris steps out to greet me--magnum raised and aimed for my face. 

So much for a warm welcome.

He hasn't changed much over the years--gotten a little gruffer looking, maybe, but for the most part he looks exactly as when I first met him at Crystal Lake years ago.

He takes a few steps forward, and other people fan out around him; one of whom I recognize to be Claire. Same beautiful face I recognize from before. If anything, she has gotten even prettier over the years.

Some of the others draw their weapons, but Claire eyes me curiously; perhaps a flicker of recognition dawning in her violet-blue eyes.

I hold my hands up, indicating that I do not want to fight, and mentally kick myself for not wearing something less Wesker-ish. Pure black is practically my father's trademark.

" Whoa! At ease, soldiers." I say, keeping my tone friendly, " You can lower your gun, Captain Redfield. It's me, Alan. Not Albert. Remember? That HCF base five years ago? "

I am unprepared when Claire suddenly flings herself forward and embraces me in a tight hug. She puts her hand over my right shoulder, and some of her chestnut-brown hair drifts into my face. It smells pleasantly of strawberries.

" Alan! You're alive! " Her words ring with a certain shock and pleasure. Then she releases me.

Chris lowers his magnum, and I can see the great relief on his face. " It's alright everyone," he decrees, " It's just Alan. He may look a bit like Wesker, but he is actually Wesker's son. He helped Claire and I take out an HCF base a few years ago."

The rest of S.T.A.R.S. relax their weapons--some more hesitantly than others.

Relief continues to wash off Chris in waves. Had I been my father, he is worried he may not have been able to stop me before I killed him and half the team. It is not a misplaced worry.

" So, what's up? Long time no see."

Chris looks as though I have just slapped him. He bites his lip and I think I detect a shimmer of hatred in his eyes. 

Was it something I said?

" Whoa! Time out! " A small woman around my age with shoulder-length reddish-brown hair calls whilst tapping the straightened fingers of one hand into the outstretched palm of another in classic calling-a-time-out fashion. " Wesker has a son? "

She looks as though she were having a hard time believing it.

I nod. " Yep. Right here."

Her face is familiar…now I remember! She's Rebecca Chambers, one of the original S.T.A.R.S. members led into the mansion, and the only survivor of Bravo Team. I have seen her face before in the old S.T.A.R.S. group photo. The rookie medic. My dad tried to kill her in the mansion by shooting her in the chest. It was a good thing she'd been wearing bullet-proof material.

I still can't imagine why my father would shoot her in the first place. Did he really consider her that big a threat?

She looks about as threatening as a little puppy. Of course, looks can fool. I myself am a classic example of that. 

Hmm. She is kinda cute.

" What do you want here? " A muscular, older-looking man with graying brown hair, long sideburns, and a short beard stubble barks.

The sheer ferocity of his tone startles me. I mentally reach back into the past and try to bring his face to memory while I think of how to answer.

" Barry! Calm down. Alan's not like Wesker. In fact, he saved both Claire _and _me _from_ Wesker! " Chris says, jumping to my defense.

Barry! Uh-oh, I remember all too well the things my father said about _him_.

I am beginning to think my dad had very few friends. This does not bode well for me, especially if I want to join the team.

Barry crosses his arms and says no more, but his eyes are narrowed dangerously, and I know he is probably thinking of throttling me. 

He could try it and see what happens. 

Yet I really don't want to humiliate the poor guy. He had a good reason to hate my father, and it only stands to reason he would be suspicious of me.

Chris takes the initiative, " Alan, this is Rebecca," he gestures to Rebecca, 

" Steve." he points to another man around my age with neatly-styled, rusty-brown hair. I recognize him as being Claire's partner back at the HCF base. 

" Carlos." I do not recognize this one, but he looks to be in his mid twenties with brown hair and a friendly smile. 

" Barry." Barry glowers at me when I look his direction again. 

" Alexis." A strikingly beautiful young woman stands to one side of Barry. My first thought is that I am looking at Alexia Ashford, the woman who tried to kill me. But Alexis doesn't have quite as harsh a look about her. She smiles and waves a bit when I look her way, and something in my mind clicks. I don't know why, but I feel very attracted to her. Like I could share my darkest secrets with her and she would understand. A strange feeling for me to have about someone whom I've just barely met, and who resembles my worst enemy on top of it.

" And, of course, my wife Jill. Claire and I you've already met, obviously."

Jill cocks her head to one side and studies me curiously, like I am a puzzle that needs figuring out.

Of course, I remember her from the S.T.A.R.S. photo too, but her mostly-red hair has grown longer over the years. She is still very pretty. And she still has that look about her--a certain intelligence in her eyes.

Chris is lucky, I think, to have her for a wife.

" I'm glad you made it." Chris smiles a bit, but it seems forced. He is trying to hide it, I know, but I really do not get the impression he is that happy to see me. I'm sure he knows I am not here to try to harm him or his team. Still, his edginess makes me uncomfortable. I find myself wondering what happened to him over the years. He really does look like he's been through Hell and back.

A door creaks open, and I snap my head to the side in time to see Stacy entering another room with a handful of papers, seemingly oblivious to the fact that just minutes before everyone had been ready to shoot me.

Nervous reflex.

Ever since my training with Dad, I have grown increasingly aware of my surroundings. This makes it incredibly difficult for enemies to sneak up on me, but the flip side is that I'm always looking for problems where they don't exist.

As little as creaking a door or opening a window can startle me into a fighting stance.

Maybe part of me is looking for a fight.

In the years I have spent training with my father, we have fought many foes together. There were even times when he would purposely set me up to have me ambushed by vicious virus-infected beasts or terrorists, and then sit back and watch to see how I handled myself.

Those were tough lessons. I had went out cocky and sure of my new powers, and that had turned out to be a mistake. Being super strong and fast did not make me invincible. Having sharpened senses only helped me if I used them correctly. 

Being powerful, I soon learned, did not make me better than my opponents. It made me _luckier_ than them. Whether or not I used my advantages was up to me. 

Through trial and error, I learned. And I know it made me a better fighter than I otherwise would have been. Sometimes the hard way is the only way.

" So what brings you here? " Chris asks, snapping me out of memories past.

I return my attention to the S.T.A.R.S., all eagerly awaiting whatever it is I have to say.

" Well, I just wanted to check in and see how everyone was getting along." I gesture to Chris, " Last I saw of you, you had a pipe sticking out of your guts."

" Yeah? Well last I saw of you you weren't even conscious. You were lying on the ground and Alexia was closing in. Let there be no mistake: I hate your father. The crimes he has committed are unforgivable. But it means something that he chose saving you over killing me. That was the one good thing he ever did." Chris smiles, and it doesn't seem quite as forced as before.

Claire actually giggles a bit, startling Steve. " I'll bet you got in serious trouble when you were better! "

I nod. " You bet. Trashing his jet, betraying his plans, befriending his enemies…I had to sit for what seemed like days through a big lecture. My dad was not very pleased with me. Mostly he told me how he didn't approve of me hanging out with Redfields. He said a bunch of bad things about you which I won't even get into. Not that I listened. But if it's to any consolation, the speech he gave about the Ashfords was possibly even _more_ colorful."

I notice Alexis flinch a bit at the word 'Ashford'. That's probably because she is one. In fact, I'd be more surprised if she weren't. After all, I do remember seeing her with Alfred, Alexia, and Ash.

Again, I find myself drawn to her. She is standing off to the corner a bit, staring back at me with sapphire-blue eyes that seem to sparkle with an enchantment. Her denim jeans coupled with a light-blue blouse sporting dark blue trimmings furthers her professional appearance. I am actually kind of surprised her long blonde hair is not pulled back.

" You didn't happen to bring your father along to this city, did you? " Barry sneers. His feelings about me are pretty obvious.

" No." I admit, pretending not to notice the anger in Barry's tone, " Last I saw of him he was in Utah. I doubt he followed me over here."

It is as if a switch has been flicked. A certain anxiety leaves the room.

They are afraid of my father. I can feel it. Sense it. Not that I blame them for it, but I think a few of them are kind of afraid of me, too.

The atmosphere is still thick with distrust. 

Barry's practically wallowing in it.

I find myself reconsidering my earlier decision about asking to join. They probably aren't ready for it, and in any case there's no big rush.

Maybe if I just hang around for awhile they'll see. Not that I'd hand _too_ close, because then they'd think I had a problem. And if I did I would.

But another part of me wants to tell them, to get it all out in the open. Then, at least, they'd know my intent and wouldn't think I was up to something. If I want their trust, I'm going to have to be trustworthy.

And I can start by not keeping too many secrets.

There is a bit of an awkward silence, despite the fact that there are nine people in the room.

I suck in a deep breath. Here goes nothing. " Actually, there is another reason I dropped by. I was thinking of joining S.T.A.R.S. I've always wanted to, and I don't mean to brag, but I do have some rather impressive skills."

From their reactions, it is as if I have just sprouted tentacles. Eyes widen, jaws drop a bit, and surprised gasps fill the air. Some even start laughing.

Barry is very angry at this suggestion. " Impossible! You can't just show up here dressed like that and expect us to trust you! What kind of idiots do you take us for? You're even wearing sunglasses, just like your back-stabbing father! You know what I think? I think you just want to join so you can lead us into a trap. Isn't that what Wesker wants? You might as well admit it."

" I am _not_ Wesker! " I seethe, suddenly angry, " And I can't help it that I look like him. Black happens to be my favorite color, and if you'd been outside at all today perhaps you would have noticed how sunny it is. Bright light hurts my eyes. Since when is wearing shades a crime? "

It's true. My eyes are more sensitive to light than the eyes of a normal person. However, I don't bother explaining that the other reason I wear shades is to hide my very unusually-colored eyes. Red and yellow with catlike slitted pupils…I would be sure to draw attention if I just strutted around without some way of disguising them.

Chris is intrigued, but I can see the doubt nagging at him. He wants to believe me, but something is telling him to be careful.

Claire casts me a hopeful eye. She wants me to be on the team.

It's good to know at least one person does.

Chris rubs a hand to his chin, thinking it through.

Jill chews her lip nervously, her eyes drifting to her husband.

" You have skills? In what areas? " Chris inquires.

" Tracking. Stealth. Strategy. Special operations. I'm good with a gun and an even better close combat fighter. I've had some…pretty intense training."

Chris cocks an eyebrow. " Training? Who trained you? "

I frown. " My father."

Barry is animated. " Oh, and _that's_ not suspicious! Did he train you to kill? Did he teach you to betray your team? "

Chris waves a hand in Barry's direction. " Barry, that's enough."

Barry has one hand clenched into a fist, his expression pure rage.

Jill rests a hand on his shoulder. " Calm down." Her words are gentle.

Barry's next words are not. " Calm down?! Don't you tell _me_ to calm down! Not until Wesker's killed _your _family. My wife and daughters…all dead. All because of _him_!" 

Barry lunges forward more swiftly than I would have expected. But I am quick on my feet and sidestep. Barry grasps at air clumsily and nearly falls over in the process.

" Barry! That's _enough_! " Chris barks.

My heart does a double-beat when Barry's words hit home. 

My dad actually _killed _his family? Last I knew, he was just threatening to. I feel a lot of my anger towards Barry start to drain away. I'd sure be pissed if someone killed _my_ family.

" My dad killed your family? I'm sorry. I didn't know. That's awful." What else can I say? What else is there _to_ say? 

My dad never brought it up before. This in itself is curious. If I know anything about my father, I know he loves to gloat whenever he has killed someone of some significance. And after what I've heard from him about the S.T.A.R.S., it seems he would have told me.

Especially since I had to listen to how Enrico died. Again. And again. And again. I never should have told my father that I was friends with Enrico. I think he enjoys seeing my nauseous frown every time he brings it up.

If Barry has calmed down much, he certainly doesn't show it. He jabs an angry finger in my direction. " For all I know, you could have been in on that! "

I can't help it. Now I am starting to get a little testy. " I had nothing to do with that! I wasn't with my dad on that particular outing, and if I had been I would have stopped him." 

I cross my arms feverishly. If Barry knows what's good for him he'll pipe down.

I know he is upset but this is going too far. I don't want to end up hurting him if he attacks again, even though a part of me wants to.

" Come on, B-man, we don't have enough evidence to start pointing fingers. If Alan says he wasn't there, then he wasn't there. We can't prove otherwise. Chill, man." Carlos says calmly.

Claire turns on Barry. " Alan saved my life and nearly died because of it. I can't picture him helping in the massacre of a family."

" No! " Barry huffs, " You don't understand! That night I got home…that night that…I found my family the way they were, I also found a note. From Wesker." Barry's voice is choked, as if there is something caught in his throat that he can't get out.

" A note? What did it say? " Jill pries.

Barry only shakes his head.

I am curious. " Come, on you have to get this off your chest. I think it would be better if we knew."

" I think it would be better if you didn't." Barry turns and heads back through the door which he came through, on the verge of tears, I suspect.

" Do want you want, Chris," He sighs, opening the door, " But just remember: anyone's family could be next. It could be yours." Then the door closes and he is gone.

A bit of awkward silence follows. I feel everyone's eyes on me.

" What do you think, team? " Chris says finally, ending the uncomfortable quiet, " Should we let Alan have a trail period? Maybe test him a bit? "

Jill sighs. " I don't suppose it would hurt."

Carlos nods his agreement. " If he thinks he has what it takes. I don't think you should judge someone based on their father's bad behavior."

" I vote yes." Alexis agrees, " Heck, if we were basing on family, I'd _really_ be in trouble."

" It's cool with me." Steve.

" Everyone deserves a chance! " Rebecca pipes, her cheer seeming out of place, " I would love to have Alan on our team! "

Claire grins. " You know what my vote is."

Chris rubs his hands together decisively. " Alright then, Alan. You're on Trial." He glances to the clock and notes that it is a quarter past two. " Think you could drop by around six tonight for your first session? "

" I'll be there." I promise.


	2. A Training Session Turned Nightmare!

****

Chapter 2

Six pm comes almost too quickly. To pass the hours, I had just kinda taken a walk around town, looked into some housing and such. I could have taken my car, but I enjoy the exercise. I saw some houses that caught my eye, and with the money I have saved getting into one should not be a problem.

But first thing's first.

I have to make the team.

Chris is waiting for me outside the B.P.D. when I arrive. To my surprise, so is Alexis.

" Right on time." Chris says without a whole lot of enthusiasm, " Come out to the back lot. It should be almost empty by now…only a few personnel work past six. Seems kind of weird, if you ask me. A lot of crime goes on at night."

" I can imagine." I say, picturing the horrors that I happen _know _go on at night, " I've been places where you didn't want to be caught without a gun after dark."

He turns and leads the way around the side of the building to a medium-sized back lot. There are still a few cars parked within the yellow lines of the spaces, but for the most part the area is empty. Shallow ditches followed by a small expansion of grassy field populated with blackberry bushes stretch out in three directions. It is at least a block to the nearest neighbor. Not a bad place for a training exercise, I think.

Chris walks out to the center of the lot, Alexis and I lagging behind a bit. 

She winks at me. " Don't worry, I'm sure you'll do fine." 

She reaches out and grabs a loose piece of my hair, tucks it behind my ear.

I smile. " Thank you." 

Even through the tint of my shades I catch a sudden twinkle in her eye. After my training is through for the night, I'd like to get a chance to know her better.

" Alan, stand over on the third yellow stripe away from me." Chris instructs.

" Gees, they all look yellow to me." I joke, hoping to add a little humor to the situation.

I take note of the line Chris is on and move to the third one away. We are now face to face, but still some distance apart.

Alexis walks over and sits on the hood of a fancy new Jaguar eight yards away. 

Right. She wants to watch. And _that's_ no pressure. I now feel even more determined not to foul up.

" We'll start out light with some hand-to-hand combat." Chris explains, cracking his knuckles, " Just as a warm-up. Though, if Wesker's been training you, I imagine you're probably pretty good at it."

I am eager. " Let's start."

Of course, I will have to use extra care to make sure that I do not hit too hard. Chris doesn't know it, but I could knock his head clean off his shoulders in a single blow. We both slip into a fighting stance.

" Your goal is to pin me down," He states matter-of-factly, " the way we would non-cooperative suspects. I'm a drug dealer and there's a warrant for my arrest. See if you can pin me face-first to the ground with my arms behind my back, the way you would a real arrest. But be careful--as with all suspects, there's a chance I may have a weapon hidden." 

Ok. This should be easy. The hard part will be avoiding having my shades knocked off and being exposed as a carrier of T-2 virus.

" Remember, those druggies can be tricky! " Alexis calls from her perch on the Jag. There is quite an edge of humor in her voice. 

However, I have no time to respond as Chris is moving in!

I lunge forward and make the first move, attempting to grab him by the arm. He jerks to the side and my hand closes on empty air. He dances to my side and kicks at my midsection. Of course, his hit misses because I am no longer standing where I was a moment ago. I leap up, perform a mid-air spin, and land behind him. He has no time to react as I lash out with my boot and catch him in the spine, sending him crashing to the ground. It was a mere tap on my part, and I certainly didn't mean to send him to the pavement as hard as I did. He just lays there for a moment, and I worry I have broken something.

I come up to him slowly, unable to see his face. " Chris, are you…"

There is a slight jerk in the muscles of his leg, and I know instantly what he plans to do. And I am more than fast enough to avoid it. Yet I don't.

I barely move as he jerks his legs in a scissor-like fashion and removes my left leg off balance, tripping me to the ground. I fall back on my butt as he leaps to his feet.

Better that, I think, than to show off my super-speed which I probably would've needed to tap into to avoid that move at such a close range.

" Very impressive, Alan." Chris gushes, " Not many people outside the Olympics can jump like that."

" I work out." I blurt, as if that explains everything.

Someday, when I am already on the team and nobody is worried about me turning traitor, I'll show them my true powers. But until then I'm going to have to keep a low profile. People tend to become edgy around people who could kill them as easily as popping the tab on a can of soda.

I start to circle Chris, sizing him up for his weak points, when the sudden scent of something familiar reaches my nostrils.

I stop and sniff the wind. Yep. Definitely familiar, and something is setting off alarms in my head. I can't quite place the smell…it's something like the venom of a poisonous snake with a bit of a coppery twist.

Without warning, there is a dull pain in my side and I am on the ground again before I know it. I look up into the smug grin of Chris. Damn. I probably looked pretty stupid just standing there.

I leap to my feet and dodge another blow. This time I catch his arm as it flies by and use his own momentum to help flip him onto his back on the ground. I lose no time in flipping him over onto his stomach and wrestle his arms behind his back in handcuff position.

There. Now maybe I can check out that smell before the next session.

" Good job! " Alexis trills all too happily.

" No, _great _job! " Another feminine voice declares. 

I hop away and leave Chris to get up as Jill round the corner with a woman of apparent Spanish descent, the one who said 'great job.'

She looks pretty close to my age--early to mid twenties--with a kind of stocky, broad build covered by rough jeans and a green T-shirt. Her skin is a kind of olive color, and she has coal black hair framing a smooth, gentle-featured face. At an inch or so taller than Jill, she is well-muscled and attractive looking.

She smiles when I look her way, brown eyes lighting up. " Hi there handsome! Are you a member of S.T.A.R.S.? "

She rushes up to me like we were the best of friends.

" Me? Not yet. I'm on a trial period."

Out of the corner of my eye I notice Jill approach Chris. " That's Natasha Marini, Enrico's daughter. She showed up looking for clues to her missing father. What should we tell her? " Jill was whispering low, intending for only Chris to hear, but I can hear her as well as if she were talking through a loudspeaker.

Natasha grabs my arm. " It was sooo cool how you flipped Mr. Redfield! I wish I could do that. I have a red belt in karate and…"

I tune out Natasha's over-enthusiastic babbling and strain my attention towards what Jill and Chris are saying.

" We should tell her the truth. Her father is dead." Chris's words are grim, matching his mood.

Jill frowns. " She'll want the details. She strikes me as the type."

There is a bit of an awkward silence. Between Chris and Jill.

I, on the other hand, am on the receiving end of a one-sided conversation. " ….boy, I can tell you, the locker room sure stunk that day! Have you ever had a day when…"

It is a good thing I am wearing sunglasses and Natasha can not see which direction my eyes are focused.

There it is. That smell again. And it smells…dangerous. I can't think of any other way to describe it. Like a panther ready to pounce. I grow more anxious by the moment, and find myself wishing Natasha a thousand miles away.

I can't concentrate!

Chris opens his mouth to talk, and suddenly, " Are you even listening? " Natasha jerks on my arm. Both her and Alexis are standing next to me, and I think I detect just a hint of jealousy on Alexis's face.

" Sorry." I blurt, trying to listen to Chris and Natasha while scanning the area with my eyes for the source of the smell at the same time.

" For the third time, what's your name? " Natasha giggles like a schoolgirl, no sting at all in her words.

" Alan." 

I must sound zoned-out because Alexis asks, " Are you okay? "

I think I detect a bit of movement from behind one of the giant air-conditioning systems on top of the B.P.D. A flash of black.

" Alan. That's a nice name," Natasha rambles on, and I get the feeling she would have said that about any name I could've told her, " I'm Natasha. Natasha Marini. Maybe you knew my father, Enrico Marini? He came up missing over five years ago and I haven't been able to find any information regarding that. I visited what was left of the Spencer mansion, but they've turned that place into a landfill and I couldn't find any evidence."

Suddenly, the scent clicks. And I can't imagine a worse scenario. Well, okay, maybe I can, but it would involve Alexia and an unstoppable army of T-Veronica creatures with a couple of bombs thrown into the mix.

" Natasha, Enrico's dead." I state flatly, trying not to sound as cold-hearted as I know I must've come off, " And you will be too, if you don't…_move!_ " 

I catch the blur of movement out of the corner of my eye and try to move Natasha and Alexis safely aside before Dad gets them.

The next split-second is a blur. Even though I managed to move Natasha slightly, my father still hits her a bit and I am forced to let go or risk severely wounding her.

Dad comes to a halt by a streetlamp not twenty feet from where I am standing. He is dressed almost exactly the same as me with black clothes and matching shades, and I know we must look very similar right now. Ugh. 

Natasha is only about five feet from him.

" Wesker! " Jill and Chris gasp in unison. I am aware of Alexis backing off to join them. A very smart thing for her to do in this situation.

" Natasha, he's the one who killed you're father! " Chris barks.

Dad nods. " Yep. And I'll kill you just as easily, dearie."

I'm not sure what to do. Any sudden movement from me might startle Dad into attacking.

" You'd better watch it! " Natasha huffs, glaring at my father, " I know karate and Kung Fu! "

I am surprised when Natasha suddenly lunges forward and grabs my father by the arm. No doubt she intended to flip him, but all she manages is to yank him towards her like a silly happy-go-lucky girlfriend jerking her boyfriend towards the next ride at the amusement park.

" Natasha!" I moan, and I feel like slapping her.

Dad is not at all impressed.

Natasha grins nervously, realizing she has made a mistake. " Funny. That usually works."

I know in an instant that if I do not intervene she is doomed.

I start forward at a brisk pace, showing Dad I mean business while at the same time taking care not to startle him into doing anything brash.

He is distracted by me, and Natasha slowly backs away; the first smart thing she has done tonight.

" Leave her alone, Dad." I hiss, placing myself between him and Natasha. I hear her scurry away to Jill, Chris, and Alexis. I smell gunpowder, and even without looking back I know they have their weapons raised.

Great. This is such bad timing on Dad's part. Then again, I suppose he knows that. He always did enjoy inconveniencing me every chance he got.

He smirks unpleasantly. " Alan. You seem surprised to see me." he gestures to Natasha, " Take all my fun away. You're always saving everyone. I find that quite annoying."

He takes one step forward and I step directly into his path. His smirk evaporates. He does not like it that I am being so stubborn.

" Take one more step near them, and I swear you and I are going to have a confrontation." I challenge. But I know I will not have to follow through with my threat. My father is not an idiot. It would be awfully hard for him to dodge the bullets of S.T.A.R.S. while fighting me, and he knows it.

" Fine." Dad says, pretending not to care, " As they say, a bird in hand is better than two in the bush."

And he is gone. Just like that, in a crazed blur of movement.

I frown as I turn to face my friends. " A bird in hand is better than two in the bush? What did he mean by that? "

Natasha is completely dumbfounded, but the expressions of Jill and Chris--even Alexis--turn to pure terror. 

" We live on Bush Street! " Jill squeaks.

Chris's tone is not much cheerier. " And we have two kids: Seth and Crystal! "

Alexis snaps her head in Jill's direction. " Ohmygod, Wesker's going after them! "


	3. Redfield kids in danger!

****

Chapter 3

There is a wild rush for the Jag.

" Where's Bush Street? " I call.

" Take a right on the main road and go down three blocks. You're bound to see it. Hang another right. Our house is 1320, the big black and tan one with roses out front." Jill's word are rushed.

I rush around to the front of the building as they pile into the Jag. When I am sure I am out of their sight, I run. I run like no one else can, save my father. I call it zipping, for want of a better term. 

The houses pass by in a blur of colors fading with the light of the day. Some people are outside and some cars are on the road, but I do not mind; this is an emergency. Besides, I know that to them I am just a black blur; a fleeting image that they'll blink at and wonder if they even saw at all. And even if they did recognize me as being human, there's no way they'd get a chance to recognize me. Not that anyone would believe them anyway.

I reach three blocks in just seconds. Hang a right on Bush Street just as Jill instructed. The house numbers flash by in rapid-fire succession--1200...1250...1300...there. 1320.

Yep. Big tan house with black trimming. There are roses out front arranged in a little garden. The door has been left slightly ajar. I zip on in.

A blonde woman not much younger than me, and who looks vaguely familiar, lays sprawled unconscious on the floor at an odd angle. She is not dead--I can hear her heartbeat. For now, she is the least of my concern. Probably the babysitter.

Chris and Jill's kids would be very young and very easy prey.

God, I hate having a father who would think nothing of killing little kids. It makes me ashamed of my last name.

I catch a whiff of the faint poisonous-coppery smell I have smelled before.

I hear noises coming from another room, and in no time I have burst into a bedroom.

The first thing I see is a cute little black-haired girl around three years old. She is to the right of the room and alongside a little bed backing into the wall. Crystal, I presume.

I charge into the room and automatically shove my father aside in my rush to get to her. The plaster of the opposite wall cracks beneath his body--I was not too gentle.

" Crystal! Stay behind me! That man wants to hurt you." I can only pray she understands the importance of this. It's been awhile since I've been around toddlers.

I am in luck--she scurries behind my legs.

That's when I realize Seth is also in the room, and he is in even more trouble.

The little four-year-old--at least I guess him to be around four--is on his hands and knees on the floor looking for something. He is right smack in the middle between me and my father.

He'd be safer playing in traffic.

Dad straightens and laughs. " Well, isn't this interesting? " He rubs his hands together in wicked glee.

Both of us have super-speed, and we could both reach the kid in about the same time. I must admit that I am very worried for poor Seth. If he crawls even a little to close to Dad, he's a goner. My father would break his neck before I could prevent it. However, if I can coax him over to me, he'll be relatively safer.

" Seth, listen to me. You have to come over to me. Now. You're not safe there."

Seth is hesitant. " I lost my little potato bug. I think he's over here somewhere."

_Great_, I think sarcastically, _isn't this the icing on the cake?_

Dad grins very widely. I can tell he is enjoying this.

I am desperate. " You'll lose more than that if you don't get over here! Leave the bug. You can get a new one."

The boy is unmoved. He continues to scan the floor, moving slightly to the left. I notice my dad tense up a bit.

" But it's my little friend! " Seth complains, " I have to find him! "

" Stop! " I call, trying not to sound unfriendly, " Do you watch cartoons? "

Seth pauses and sits up, looking straight at me. " Sure."

" Okay then," I announce, happy to give an analogy he can understand, " Well this is kind of like one of your cartoons. I'm the good guy." I point to my father who just can not stop smiling, " He's the bad guy. Understand? "

Seth looks to me, then my father, then back again. " You both look the same to me."

Oh boy.

Dad suddenly points to a lego not five inches from his feet. " There! I saw your bug go under that block! You'd better hurry and get him before he runs away! "

" No wait! " I plead, mustering up a kinder, friendlier tone, " Forget about the bug and I'll get your parents to take you to Mc Donald's! " 

" Really?! "

Seth spins in my direction, suddenly forgetting about the bug.

" And that's not all," I add, hoping to make him move faster, " afterwards we can go shopping for toys. You'd like that, wouldn't you? We could buy you a little house to put bugs in if you want. The kind with the magnifying glasses that make the bugs look bigger? Wouldn't that be neat? "

Apparently, Seth _does_ think it would be neat. He looks like the happiest kid in the world as he stands up and starts for me.

" Do I getta go to? " Crystal pipes.

" Of course! " I say, relieved.

" Wait a minute, Seth. I have something for you right now. Do you want to see it? " Dad purrs, and I do not suspect Seth catches the evil undercurrent to his voice.

Seth stops and is about to turn around.

" Don't listen to him! He's lying, he wants to kill you! " I shout.

Dad makes a tsk-tsking noise. " Alan, you have me all wrong." He says, feigning horror at the mere thought of killing a child, " I would never hurt children. I like children."

" I know you better than that! " I spit, " Come on, give me some credit here! I heard what you did to Barry's family."

" Believe me, it was an improvement." Then he says, " Hey kids! Want to see something cool? "

He removes his shades, revealing the red and yellow cat's eyes.

" Cool! Show _me_ how to do that! " Seth marvels, but at the same time there is the thunder of footsteps pouring into the house. 

The others must've arrived. Thank God.

Dad is momentarily distracted, and I use the moment to grab Seth and yank him out of harm's way.

Dad arcs both eyebrows. " Well, this certainly stinks. Another time, perhaps." Sunglasses still in hand, he surges forward and leaps right through the glass window just behind me and the kids.

I crouch down and pull them under me, shielding them from the few shards of glass that explode _inward_ instead of outward. Luckily, about 99 percent of the glass shards fall outside the way they are supposed to.

Still, you can never be too careful.

Chris and Jill explode into the room. I can see the relief wash over them when they realize their kids are safe and sound.

I stand. " They're fine. I didn't let him harm them."

" Mommy! Daddy! " I watch with pride as Crystal and Seth rush into the arms of their relieved parents. There is much hugging and holding.

I cross my arms, feeling very pleased with myself for being the cause of so much joy.

When she is done with her kids, Jill turns to me and embraces me in a heartfelt hug; wrapping her arms around me and leaning her face over my right shoulder.

" Thank you." She sobs, her words almost a whisper, " Thank you so much for protecting them. When I think about how close I just came to losing them…"

She trails off, and I know she does not mean to finish. I smell the salt of a tear on her cheek.

It feels a little awkward to be hugged like this, especially in this situation. But Jill soon lets go and turns to her husband.

Chris is both worried and relieved. He gives me a thumbs-up. " Thank you."

Seth tugs oh his father's pant-leg. " Daddy! Uncle Alan said we could go to Mc Donald's! 'An shopp'en 'an stuff."

Chris cocks an eyebrow. " _Uncle_ Alan? "

I shrug. " Don't look at me. I never said I was their uncle. Though I don't mind the sound of it."

" Yeah, well, they call Alexis their aunt." Jill supplies, " They must really like you. By the way, what's this about Mc Donald's? "

I sigh. " Ok, I was on this side of the room, Wesker on the other." It feels weird to call my father by his name, but I say it that way so Jill and Chris will understand. Besides, I do not want to give them the impression I am very close to my father. " Somehow, Seth ended up between us looking for a bug. He almost followed it to Wesker's feet but I told him that if he came over to me I'd talk you two into Mc Donald's and shopping. He liked that idea better. But you might want to have a talk with him about just how dangerous my father is."

Seth looks to me as if I have just told him he won a million toys. " That other guy was your daddy? Whoa, cool! "

" Actually it's not all it's choked up to be." I admit sourly.

Seth bolts over to me. " Can you bend down a second Uncle Alan? "

I don't see any harm in that. I kneel down to eye level with him, and Crystal scampers over too.

" What? "

I am not prepared when Seth suddenly snatches my shades off my face, exposing my unusual eyes.

" See! " He exclaims proudly, pointing them out--as if they need to be--to his parents.

" He has eyes just like his daddy! "

" They're pretty." Crystal chimes in.

Yikes!

Chris and Jill's own eyes widen.

Seth puts on my shades, and they are ridiculously too big for him.

" Eheh." I squeak. I have a feeling I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do! 


	4. The Calm Before The Storm

****

Chapter 4

" It's okay!" I say suddenly, " It doesn't mean anything! Well, obviously, it means I have T-2 virus, but that doesn't mean I'm going to go all postal or anything."

Chris crosses his arms. " You know," he says smugly, and I don't detect any ill will in his voice, " I was wondering about that. You got here very quickly despite the fact that we were all held up in traffic. But what really tipped me off was Wesker's reaction to you. Last time we crossed paths, he didn't let you stand in his way of pummeling me. This time it was like he didn't want to fight you. I was wondering how you managed to save our kids. Now I know."

Jill grabs Crystal back, but she still can't tear her stare away from my eyes. " Are you as powerful as Wesker? " She wonders, excited.

I smile a bit. " I don't know for sure, but probably. Last time we had a mock-fight, I did a pretty good job of holding my own, and I don't think he was holding back."

" How did…how did it happen? "

I frown. " Well, like Chris was saying, I was in pretty bad shape back at the HCF base five years ago. Getting hit by Alexia feels roughly equivalent to getting hit by a wrecking ball. Of course, my father saved me. Next thing I knew I had all these ' superpowers' and Dad was saying he'd had to give me some of his blood--some of his _virus _to save my life." I feel my frown deepen at the memory.

" You're upset." Jill observes sympathetically, " What's wrong?"

" I'm not sure I would have died without the transfusion. I might have been alright."

Why this upsets me, I'm not sure. But it does. In a horrible way.

There is a moment of awkward silence. Not even the kids find anything to say. 

I snatch my shades from Seth and replace them on the bridge of my nose.

Chris chuckles a bit all of a sudden, but some of the humor is drained. " When we were fighting earlier you could've smashed my face clear through the pavement! "

A smile twitches at the edge of my lips. " I could have," I agree playfully, " But what would that have proved? "

I'm feeling a little better now. At least nobody is running from me.

Alexis and Natasha enter the room from the already-open door, and now I see the blonde teenager who was unconscious when I first arrived is with them.

" She has a bit of a headache," Alexis explains, " but we think Sherry will be fine."

I feel my eyes light up to such the extent that they are probably glowing red through my shades. " Sherry?! As in Sherry Birkin?! "

The young woman nods. " That's me."

She budges in between Alexis and Jill. " Oh my god, Alan! Is it really you? "

" Nope." I tease, " I'm a shape-shifter who's morphed into Alan. Come on, it's great to see you! "

The small kids' room is suddenly very crowded.

" Um…I think we'd better take this into the living room." Jill suggests.

One by one, we start filing out.

Seconds later, we are standing in a spacious living room with two sofas and an easy-chair. The Redfields must be well off. I am glad things have been working out for them.

" You two know each other? " Alexis asks incredulously, taking a seat on a plush burgundy sofa. I settle down next to her, and Natasha sits next to me. Joy.

" Sure! My dad and her dad were friends. Our families used to visit each other sometimes on the weekends."

Sherry giggles a bit. " Yeah! Remember that time we were at my house when I was eight and you thirteen? Remember what we did to my parents' basement? "

I laugh, the memory coming back to me. " Yeah! We were doing science experiments and ended up making a huge mess. Then we tried to clean it up by unhooking the washer and using the water…" I squint my eyes, the images coming in vivid detail.

" …and we ended up flooding the entire basement." Sherry finishes, " I got grounded for a month. My father said that if I went near his chemicals again he was going to use them to mutate me into an ugly frog beast. Of course, he didn't really mean it, but still…"

I shrug. " My dad told me that if I was going to be throwing chemicals around and making a mess, I should at least wait until I was eighteen and old enough to work at Umbrella like everyone else." I catch Sherry's eye, " I heard about what happened to your parents. I'm sorry."

Sherry casts her eyes down, saddened. " Yeah, well…I had an aunt who took me in. How's your family? I mean, other than your dad, obviously."

Now it is my turn to frown. " I wish I knew. I haven't seen my mother or sister since that night I left for the HCF base five years ago. I've tried to find them, but my dad didn't seem particularly worried, so they must be okay. I've spent the last few years moving around the globe with him and training. He was preparing me for the day we'd face Alexia together. I've been through some tough lessons." 

" I was just babysitting for Chris and Jill tonight when your father just burst in and the next thing I knew I was unconscious."

Chris snorts. " That's how Wesker says hello. Believe me, you're lucky he didn't do worse than that."

" Actually," I cut in, " I don't think Sherry was in any real danger of being killed. As the Birkins' daughter, he wouldn't do any worse than what he did. At least, I don't think."

" Right." Sherry says a bit sarcastically, " My face got punched in a friendly way."

I am truthful. " Hey, it's not like he hasn't knocked me around two or three dozen times. I'm right there with you."

I smile in spite of myself. It is good to see another familiar face.

A hand lands in my lap. Without even looking, I know it is Natasha's. I'm not thrilled with this. I could tell within the first few minutes that we'd met that she is not my type of girl. For one thing, she seems like such a superficial airhead. She's not in love with me. She thinks she is, but she's not. And she has a tendency to babble.

Natasha takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

I pull away from her; lean more towards Alexis. I hope she will understand this wordless hint. I do not mean to be cruel, but I don't want her to get her hopes up too high about me. There is less hurt now than there would be later.

Everyone is talking at once now, like a bunch of ducks quacking on a lake.

Each involved in private conversations. I hear the words, yet I cannot hone in on one particular conversation. My super-virus did not grant me the ability of supreme concentration; much to my regrets. 

I can not believe the bad luck I have been having with that lately.

I feel Alexis's soft hand brush my own in a much smoother transition than Natasha's, and it causes me to look her way.

" We should probably go." She suggests, her gaze falling upon young Crystal and Seth deep at play, " It's getting kind of late. Do you have a place to stay? "

" I have plenty of money to rent a motel for the night, and I can easily afford to rent or even buy a place around here."

Alexis gives me a wane smile. " You can stay at my place tonight if you want. It's just next door. And I have plenty of guest rooms that never get used."

Her voice is soft and bewitching. I find it difficult to decline.

" Sure. If it's alright with you."

She stands and announces, " I'd love to stay and chat, but it's getting kind of late. Alan agreed to stay at my place tonight. We'll be leaving now."

Chris nods like a puppet. " Sure, that's fine. But I'll need to borrow Alan a minute. I need to talk to him. Alone."

A lump swells in my throat. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Chris's expression is unreadable, and I find no answer there.

Alexis chews her lower lip. " Okay. I live in the house right across the street. 1319. Just meet me there when you're done. Don't bother knocking, just walk right in and make yourself at home."

Alexis crosses the living room and heads out the front door with a bit of a backward glance. She, too, must be wondering what's going on.

To my side, Natasha laughs at something Sherry just said. Jill is having a peppered conversation with both of them, and Crystal and Seth have vanished into another room of the house.

From the sounds of it, I'd guess the kitchen. There is the crinkling of paper, and the delicious scent of chocolate chip cookies fills my nostrils.

Chris doesn't say a word, he just gestures me to follow him and heads down the hall. Nobody seems to notice as we leave the life of the party.

From the hall, he leads me down through the garage and out into the backyard. It is big and grassy, as far as backyards go, and all fenced in. The ground is littered with the kids' toys, and there is even a swing-set.

" Nice yard." I comment.

" Yeah," Chris gushes, " we were thinking of getting a puppy."

I notice that the swing-set is rendered unusable due to a couple of bends in the supporting pipes, making the whole structure crooked and unstable.

" Alan, I want you to know that…"

" Just a second."

I walk over to the swing-set and grab a crooked support beam. It is like putty in my hands. Bending and squeezing, I manage to mold it back into it's original shape. I repeat the process for the other support pipes, and within seconds, the set is like new.

I turn back to Chris. " As you were saying?"

Chris blinks a bit, impressed with my work. " Um...thank you. I was going to have that fixed…or replaced, but now I guess I won't need to."

" You're just lucky it was the right kind of metal." I inform, " Some metal just breaks or snaps in two when you try to bend it."

Chris looks mildly jealous. " Not when _I_ try." He mumbles quietly. In a louder voice, he says, " Ok. Alan, I want you to know that My family and I are very thankful to you. I'm very thankful to you. What you did tonight…it was awesome. I'll never forget it. But…" The words seem to stick in his throat, and I am suddenly anxious, " I think maybe it's not such a good idea for you to stick around. I think you should leave the city as soon as possible."

I feel as though I've been slapped. " _What? _Do you think I'm dangerous, that I might hurt someone? Is that it? "

Chris shakes his head sadly, and I detect a trace of something old in his eyes, something I have not seen on him since the HCF incident. Fear.

He is sullen. " I know you'd never hurt us, Alan. It's not even a question of that. It's just, while you're still around, your father is likely to stay around…"

I cut him off. " And what? You think that if I leave he'll magically disappear off to Never Never Land and never bother you again? Get real. He's got the yen in to hurt you and the rest of S.T.A.R.S.: one by one. He'll probably start with mind games and taking what's dearest to you most. My being away won't change that. It's not as if I will leave and Wesker will think: _Gee, I was going to hang around to taunt, maim, and kill my old enemies. But, hey! My son just left, and now I won't. _Believe me, you're safer with me around." 

"And what will you do, exactly? " Chris throws, " Will you fight him? Could you win? "

I stop and consider. My dad and I are pretty equal in power, I think, but he has the upper hand when it comes to experience.

" I…I honestly don't know." I admit.

Chris kicks a dirt clod up into the air. " See! That's exactly my point! You _don't know. _When I saw you earlier, I wanted to believe that everything was going to be alright. That Wesker, your father, was finally out of our lives. That illusion was shattered when he attacked my kids. I know now that we are not going to be safe, Alan. You said it yourself: he's got the yen in to kill us all. He might leave us alone for a few years, or he might strike again tonight. Who knows? And it doesn't matter how many times you get in his way and scold him like a bad little puppy, he's going to keep trying, and eventually you won't be able to stop him. That's what we need to do, we need to _stop_ him. We can't live our lives in constant fear of when he's going to show up next. We have to kill him."

My heart stops. " You can't expect me to help murder my own father! No matter how twisted and evil he is! "

Chris is grim-faced. " I don't expect you to. That's why I think it would be better if you left."

I shake my head. " There has to be an alternative."

" Like what?! " Chris snaps, suddenly becoming very angry with me, " Throwing him in prison? He'd just bend the bars and walk right on out. That is, if we could manage to capture him alive in the first place. As long as he's out there, he's dangerous. And not just to me, to _everyone. _Surely you must see this! "

He's right. I do see it. My father is a cold-blooded killer. He's killed plenty of people right in front of me. 

Heck, _I've _killed people before. But only in self-defense. And never women and children.

But my dad does not see things the way I do. He is very selfish and doesn't seem to care about anyone else. Except, perhaps, me.

Despite all the horrible things he's done, despite all the horrible things he plans on doing, I still love him.

It is a truth that I have a hard time accepting. 

Because it scares me. It scares me more than Alexia would if I were powerless and locked in a room with her in all her T-Veronica glory.

Is it wrong, I think, to love a mass murderer? I'm sure it must be. It is like I am ok with the killings, like I can accept them.

I worry that over time this will numb me and I will end up just as bloodthirsty as he is.

I don't want that. God, I don't want that.

But already I can feel myself slipping. I've done things over the past few years that I never would have dreamed of doing before. Death doesn't bother me as much as it used to. I am so used to it I am becoming numb to it. 

How long, I wonder, before I become numb to mercy, compassion…even love? They are almost nonexistent in the world I live in now. I can see Chris's point.

The truth is, I can see it too well.

I know he's right about this deep down, but I still want to reject it. I want there to be another way; because right now, the way I see it, I lose no matter what happens.

Chris seems to calm down. " We're waging war on Wesker. You can't be a part of it. Sorry."

The words sink in like knives.

I snort, hurt. " Have it your way, then. I'm going to find another way! "

The fencing around Chris's backyard consists of straight wooden planks at least seven feet tall.

Big deal.

I leap over it in one swift motion and zip out through the neighbor's yard to get to Alexis's. I don't feel like facing anyone else right now.

I cross the street and rush into 1319.

The first thing I notice is the strong scent of cinnamon straight from an incense burner. The living room itself is quite spacious and furnished with all the latest rages in electronics and furniture. There's a big screen TV with a Playstation hooked up to it. Breathtaking seascapes hang from the walls. The whole room has a general sea theme going on, and the carpets and furniture are all calming shades of blue and green.

Alexis comes out from the kitchen dressed in more casual clothes--just blue jeans and a shiny blue blouse.

She drops herself on the couch and studies me, her expression full of worry.

" You look troubled." She pats the spot next to her on the sofa, " Why don't you settle down and tell me what's wrong? "

I do as she suggests and plant myself next to her. I take off my shades, fold them neatly, and set them on the end table to my left.

Alexis seems mildly surprised.

" Oh, I don't know if you were there when I mentioned to everyone that I'm a carrier of T-2 Virus." I sigh.

Everything is brighter now, and Alexis's blue eyes seem to sparkle all the more.

We lock eyes. The moment is filled with a meaningful silence.

" T-2 Virus? What does that do? "

" It's not all that bad, actually. Heightens your senses. Increases your strength and speed dramatically. If there are any side-effects, I don't know about them."

The ghost of a smile plays at the edges of Alexis's delicate lips. " Your eyes are very pretty."

" Thank you. Yours are, too. _You're_ very pretty."

Now she does smile. " Now I know why you wear the shades. Have you ever tried contacts? The kind that make your eyes appear a different color? "

" Yes." I confess, " They irritated my eyes. And they really didn't hide much--my pupils still looked slitted."

She cranes her neck to observe my eyes at a different angle. " I'll bet you see pretty well then."

I scoot back further into the couch, doing my best to appear more relaxed. " I do see very well, especially in the dark. If my eyes are at all like a cat's, then I see approximately eight times better than a normal person at night."

Alexis laughs softly. " Funny word, 'normal'. When you get right down to it, nobody in the world is completely, totally normal. We all have our little idiosecrecies."

I turn away and pretend to be totally absorbed in an oil painting of the ocean at sunrise. Or is it sunset? Sometimes it's hard to tell.

Alexis's next words catch me by surprise. " So, you don't like, drink blood or anything? "

I turn my head and give her what must be an are-you-crazy look. " Alexis, I'm not a vampire."

She blushes, thoroughly embarrassed. " With all your powers, and the virus and all, I was just wondering. Sorry, I should have known better than to think that vampires exist.

I shrug, hoping to make her feel a little better. " Who knows? Maybe they do. After all, we know for a fact that zombies exist. And I've seen so many other Frankenstein creatures…hey, why not? "

Alexis runs her finger over the soft blue-green velvet of the couch armrest.

" So. Not a vampire then." She says without looking at me, " What are you, then? "

I shake my head. " I…I don't know. There isn't really a word for people like me. I'm…and this is a bit of a stretch…but I'm kind of like Superman. Only, not quite as powerful, of course, and I don't have X-ray vision…come to think of it, this is a really bad comparison. Maybe I am a bit like a vampire, in some ways--they are also very strong and fast…but I'm not the undead." I frown, " I can't think of anyone real or in comic books that I'm like, exactly."

Alexis puts a hand to her chin, thoughtful. " I've got it! You're like a Superman-vampire mix! "

I slap a hand to the side of my face in imagined horror. " Now _there's_ a scary thought! Invincible super-vampires who fly around drinking your blood. Forget the stakes, bring out the Kryptonite! "

" We'd need stakes _made out of _Kryptonite! " Alexis corrects.

We both laugh at that.

But my laughter soon dies because that is not the way I feel.

" There you go," Alexis scolds playfully, " getting all broody again. And I don't think it has anything at all to do with super-vampires or your virus." She rests a hand on my lap, and now her words are more serious. " What's wrong? "

" It's my father." I breathe, unsure why I am opening up to her, " He's evil…"

Alexis cuts me off. " Hey! I'm right there with you! My parents are Alfred and Alexia, so I know something about what that's like. Welcome to the 'Our Parents Are Evil' Club. I'm the president."

Realization dawns. " Hey! I met your brother Ash back at the HCF base! "

Alexis frowns. " I'm afraid to ask."

" Wasn't anything major," I fib, " we just had a disagreement over a crest.

Alexis gives a sad sigh, and her expression is so full of pain and hurt that I feel angry at myself for even bringing it up at all.

When she finally lifts her head up and looks at me, her eyes are full of sorrow. " I was never raised by my parents, and I never really got to see my brother a _whole_ lot, but I still…felt connected to them. Responsible for them. All my life my foster parents had told me stories about how wonderful and noble the Ashford family was. I had a hard time accepting the truth when it finally presented itself. I didn't want to believe I could be part of such a horrible and cruel family. But at the same time, I couldn't _not _be a part of it. Do you get what I'm saying? "

_More than anything_, I think.

" I think I do." I rest my hand over hers and give it a gentle squeeze. " That's my problem. The reason why I'm upset. Well, most of it, anyway. On one hand, I care very deeply for my friends even though I have not known them for long. I guess you could say I love them, however you would define the word. But on the other hand, I also…and I feel horrible about this…I also love my father. I know he has killed people, slaughtered innocent families, and even conspired against all of humanity…all with a song in his heart. I've never seen him show remorse about any of the things he's done, and I know he is trying to drive me over to the dark side of the Force, so to speak. Then he shows up and ruins my life just when things are starting to get better for me. I should hate him. But I don't. It's foolish, but I guess a small part of me is still hoping that…"

" That he'll change? " Alexis finishes.

I sigh. " Yeah. Wishful thinking, isn't it? He's been this way for so long…"

Alexis shakes her head. " It's not crazy at all. I still love my family despite all the horrible things they have done. My father literally tortured people to death--heck, he still probably does--and you know how my mother is. But I can't bring myself to hate either of them. I've always secretly wished that one day I'd see them again and maybe…I don't know, change them. Even if they don't deserve it." She chews her lip thoughtfully. " You know, I think I just realized something."

" What? " I ask, taking her fingers in mine.

" Why we can't hate them Think about it…your father, how does he treat you? "

The question catches me by surprise. " How does he treat me? Come to think of it, he treats me rather well. It's very strange. He'll go out and kill people, but when he sees me it's just like it's one of those things dads do. We can talk together, joke together…we've even been on missions together--you know, little chores assigned from HCF? Technically I don't work for them, but I do get a share of the pay. Anyway, other than the fact that he's evil, my father and I have a pretty normal father-son relationship. You might even call it kind of close. I guess I'm also worried that he is succeeding in turning me over to the dark side. I've become so numb to death that it scares me."

" What, you think you're turning evil? "

I take a moment to answer. " I worry that I am. They say power corrupts, and I have so much of it."

Alexis actually leans against me and rests her head on my shoulder. 

It startles me, but in a good way. I enjoy her touch. The warmth of her body.

" Just the fact that you're worrying about it means that you're not. Tell me, how many times have you heard your father say 'I wonder if I'm evil? ' A true evil person does not care. That's the reason you can't hate your father. It sounds like he cares about you, maybe even loves you. It is hard to hate someone who cares about you. And just the fact that your father cares at all means he still has a chance. Whether he deserves it our not, it's there."

Wow. " You sound like you've given this a lot of thought."

I gently stroke her soft, silky hair. 

She shuts her eyes a moment as if drifting off to some far off world. " Yes. I'm in the same boat as you are, only I don't know if my parents even care about me at all. And a part of me doesn't care if they care. They're family. I don't know any other way to put it. I want to help them. I want to help them find the light again so that maybe they can rise above their hellish pit and atone for their sins. They have the ability to be better than this, I know they do."

I sigh. " We have a case and a half for the psychiatrist."

" You shouldn't hate yourself for loving someone."

" I can't help it. Alexis, I feel like I'm one of the bad guys! "

She opens her eyes and lifts her head, staring straight into my eyes. 

I want to turn away, embarrassed to even look at her.

" I want you to listen to what I'm going to say, because I'm only going to say it once: Bad guys don't save little kids. Bad guys don't go out of their way to protect their friends." She gets up and stretches. " Your room can be the first door to the left down the hall. You can help yourself to the TV. I'll be in my room reading. Make yourself at home--what's mine is yours."

" Thanks."

Her footsteps fade down the hall, and I am left alone to ponder. I did not tell her the other cause of my misery--S.T.A.R.S. waging war on my father. I don't want to get her involved. She has enough to worry about as it is. 


	5. Confrontation between Father & Son

****

Chapter 5

It is nearly midnight when I detect just the faintest stir of something creeping just outside the window. I mute the volume of the TV and strain to listen to just that particular noise and tune all other sounds out.

Selective hearing. A real life-saver since I can hear Alexis's heartbeat from clear off in the other room if I so choose. Most noises I tune out: the hum of electricity, the creaking of trees in the wind, the buzz of cars traveling down the road, the sounds of heating and air-conditioning systems. But I do keep an ear out for suspicious noises, and the noise I have just heard outside--it sounded like footsteps against rough wood--definitely falls into that category.

Someone is lurking around uncomfortably close to this home.

Someone is going to have a very unlucky night--I don't go easy on crooks who break into houses or even act like they're going to.

There it is again; boots on concrete. I am at the door in a flash and pause.

These do not sound like ordinary footfalls. They are too light; too stealthy. Like a predator.

Carefully--so as not to startle either Alexis or the footsteps person--I creak the door open and step outside to test the crisp night air. 

A sudden gust of wind flares up and closes the door behind me. I wince as I detect the faint coppery smell.

My father. The scent I have been smelling is that of the T-2 virus we carry in our veins. Dad can not leave well enough alone.

My inhuman eyes adjust to the dark of the night, and despite the wane moonlight and sparse streetlights I see everything just as well as if it were bathed in a spotlight. I search around; feeling like the recipient of an unwanted game of cat and mouse.

The coppery scent is almost gone now--no doubt the wind has shifted--and though I do not see anything out of the ordinary, I can still sense a stillness in the air.

Impending doom. It is not a feeling I am unfamiliar with.

The faintest scratching of something rough against something gravelly jerks my head in the direction of the roof. There is a flash of movement--black lightning.

I zip to the side and my father lands on his feet exactly where I'd been a millisecond prior. He turns and smiles a bit at me, reminding me of a thwarted pussycat.

" Good boy, son. Your senses are sharp. Though I must admit it took you a bit longer than I would have thought to look to the roof." His voice is calm and quiet, but still with a certain power to it.

I cross my arms and feel a frown starting to form on my face. " Why are you doing this to me? Why can't you just leave me alone? "

Dad snickers quietly, keeping his voice in a mere half-whisper appropriate for the time of night. Red flashes through his shades. Even at night, I know they do not hamper his vision.

" This isn't about you, Alan. This was _never _about you." He turns and zips down the sidewalk in that incredibly fast way.

I know he wants me to follow. And follow I do--like a kitten chasing a string--zipping past buildings and houses in a supersonic blur.

Just like my dad to never give me a straight answer. We have to go through a little 'ritual' first that annoys the heck out of me. 

Another night I might just let him go. But tonight I want answers. Tonight he's going to find it very difficult to shake me.

We head down an alley between two large buildings. Dad suddenly stops and leaps straight to the top roof of a five-story building with all the ease and liquid grace of a cat leaping onto a dresser.

I copy the motion and land right beside him.

He is not running now. In fact, he is not even looking at me. Back turned to me, he walks on over to the far edge of the complex.

I join him in looking down on the quiet night streets of Bayview.

A screech owl shrieks from somewhere in the distance. Moths buzz around any available source of light. Cats stalk in their backyards. Dogs bark from far off. Even at night, nature never rests.

Not many people on the streets tonight.

Dad looks upon it all like an emperor regarding his kingdom. " I knew you'd come." He says without looking at me.

I stand only inches to his side. " How could I not? You just show up and ruin my life…tends to arouse bitter feelings, you know what I mean? What are you doing here? "

Dad finally glances at me before returning his gaze to the darkened sky. " You're my son." He says simply, " What kind of a father would I be if I didn't worry about you? "

I snort. " Cut the bull, Dad. You didn't follow me all this way because you were worried about me, and we both know it. You want your sweet little revenge."

He shrugs. " Nothing wrong with that." He turns around and faces me, his expression unreadable. " I see you've been a good little boy-scout for the new S.T.A.R.S. gang. This does not please me, Alan." 

I shift a bit, uncomfortable. " Maybe you haven't noticed this, Dad, but I'm an adult now. My life does not revolve around pleasing you."

He laughs as if I have just told a funny joke. " Come on, you're saying your life revolves around setting up a nice carefree lifestyle in good old Bayview and joining the Brady Bunch over there? " He gestures in the general direction of the B.P.D., " We both know that's not going to happen. And it's not just because I plan to kill all of them, either. They can't accept you for who you are. They look at you and all they see is me. They're never going to trust you, not one of them. And do you know why? "

" I think you've just answered your own question." I remark.

Dad shakes his head. " It's because you _are_ me. Maybe not literally, but we both have a dark side. Do you know what the only difference is between us? "

" A conscience? " I pipe.

He shakes his head disdainfully. " The only difference between us is that I have accepted my dark side. You're still trying to hide from who you are."

" I am _not_ like you! " I huff, hoping I don't sound as unsettled as I feel.

A tense moment slips by.

" Do you really believe that? " Dad starts, " While it's true that I would never carry gratitude to the same level you do--especially where Chris is concerned--I doubt your friends know your true nature. Did you tell them you've killed people? Hey, I wonder if they'd think _that's_ cool? And Barry…you've gotta love Barry. By now I'm sure he despises anyone even remotely resembling me, not to mention having my last name…"

" You're sick, you know that? " I manage, " How could you just kill his wife and daughters like that? "

He scratches his chin a bit before replying, " Simple. Herded them into a corner, snapped their necks. Okay, so maybe there was some chasing and hitting involved. But if it's to any consolation, they didn't last over two minutes with me. No _unneeded suffering_, as you are so constantly whining about. Cheer up, son. They had it much easier than Barry's going to." 

I am both sick and frustrated all at once. 

" Why can't you just leave the S.T.A.R.S. alone? " I demand furiously, " Haven't you hurt them enough already? They've declared war on you. They want to take you out, and it's not going to stop until either you or they end up dead! "

Dad cracks his knuckles, a smile lighting up his face. " Great! I love it when they try to fight back. It makes victory so much sweeter."

I shake my head. " You don't understand! "

Dad looks as if I have just wounded his ego. " What, do you honestly think a bunch of gun-toting losers actually have a chance against me? Seriously. What are they going to do, shoot me with a rocket launcher? I'm not as slow as Alexia. I can easily disarm them. Without their weapons, they're nothing. They may as well forfeit the game and call it a night. They have nothing."

" You're wrong." I state, mustering all the courage I have, " They have me."

I don't know what I expected him to do, but I sure didn't expect him to find that funny. 

But he does. His evil laugh fills the air and drifts away into the warm October night.

" Oh, because you're such a righteous person! I keep forgetting! Hey, do you think those people you killed would agree with that? "

" They were trying to kill _me_! " I growl, " I didn't have a choice. I did what I had to do. You know that. I wasn't the villain."

" I bet that's what you keep telling yourself." Dad purrs, " To tell you the truth, there's nothing wrong with being a villain."

I turn around right then and am about to speed off when his hand touches my shoulder.

I whirl around; face him. I don't have a mirror handy, but I don't suppose my expression is a pleasant one.

Dad straightens very serious-like, and I can see his eyes through his shades.

" It must be so upsetting for you that your 'friends' want to kill me and vice-versa. But don't let it get to you too much…tonight was mere child's play. I was just messing with them. I'm afraid I won't get the chance to do the finishing score until after my latest assignment. It's really too bad you can't come with me on this one--it might actually be dangerous. But if you'd rather play babysitter to a bunch of ungrateful morons trying to play hero, I guess that's your business. Go on then, Alan. Get back to your Ashford sweetheart. You have my word that I will not attack again tonight."

I am curious. " Assignment? What assignment do you have? " I ask, totally ignoring the part he said about Alexis being my sweetheart.

Dad turns away. " Nothing that would interest a do-gooder like you."

" Come on," I press, " what is it? I'm interested. "

" There's something going down in Africa." Dad says, almost casually, " We have a new player in the market of viral research and biological weapons: Acid Rain. They seem to be brighter than most…I actually could like that company. But HCF offered me a bigger pay to cut them out of the picture, so that's the way it is. You go where the business is. I hear that the particular African village I'm going to has been severely infected by the 'viral wars' going on between these two companies and Umbrella. So I should encounter quite the number of new monsters and baddies to kick around. Maybe even some infected elephants. Should be fun."

I feel a twinge of relief. So he really _is _going. I have not known my dad to lie about things like this. Not to me, anyway.

Dad gives me a lopsided smile, and again it is like he is just a normal dad doing normal dad stuff.

" Come on, don't you wish me luck? "

_Not really_, I think. I know my father is playing for the wrong team, but at least it will keep him out of my hair long enough for me to figure something out before he gets back to do the dirty work.

I can only pray no innocents get in his way.

" Have fun." I mutter, " Try not to kill anyone I wouldn't kill."

Dad laughs. " Where's the fun in that? Anyway, I think most of the people will probably be dead before I get there. You sure you don't want to come? We could do a little father-son butt-kicking. Destroy buildings, fling things through walls…don't tell me you don't enjoy that. We don't need weapons, we _are_ weapons! "

I shake my head. " I'm never going to be able to join S.T.A.R.S. if I run off with you."

He nods with phony understanding. " Ah, we couldn't have that now, could we? Some things you'll have to learn the hard way, I guess. But if I were you…who am I kidding? If I were you, I would have destroyed them all when I had the chance. But…don't trust them too much. Seriously. Especially where Barry's concerned. He's basically a numbskull, but if he thinks he can get away with something…we're not exactly invincible, you know? And he just might be stupid enough to try something crazy. Who's captain now, anyway? "

" Chris."

Dad makes a face and holds his arms out towards the sky. " So the irony gods _do _exist! " His tone is light and humorous, but when he looks to me again it has wound down some. " Let me tell you something about Chris--and I'm not just saying this because I hate his guts and would rather kill him than look at him--but his senses and judgment aren't worth beans. I could tell this even _before_ I got the virus. I'm serious. When we were down in that tunnel--right after I'd shot Enrico--that idiot had the hardest time figuring out who was the _'traitor to the S.T.A.R.S.' _that Enrico had mentioned. I'm sure he must've seen his dead teammates lying all over the mansion. And Jill and Barry were with him when it happened. That left only me or Rebecca. Frankly, I'm quite insulted."

" Maybe he didn't know everyone else was dead, or maybe he suspected you all along."

Dad shakes his head. " That would be giving him way too much credit. The only reason I hired Redfield in the first place was because he could fly a jet and he came so highly recommended. I didn't hire him for his intuitive powers. Jill has more on the ball than he does in the ways of intelligence. Brad…I don't know _how_ he slipped onto my team. I think someone must've spiked my drink the night I let him onto the force. His flying away in the chopper was _not_ my plan. And while we're on the subject, Enrico would flip over in his grave if he knew the way Natasha has turned out. Assuming he has a grave. Who knows what the destruct system did to those underground passages? "

I have to agree with my father there. Natasha is a spazz. A space-cadet not too firmly rooted in reality. I really hope she gets over her crush on me soon. I turn to go.

" Take care, son! " Dad calls as I start across the roof, backtracking the way I came, " But just remember this: next time I come, it won't be to play. You can't be watching them all at once! "

My heart sinks as I jump down and dash off towards Alexis's house. I know he means it. I haven't stopped the inevitable--all I have done is bought time. 

And it is this gnawing fact that makes for a very restless night.


	6. The Message

****

Chapter 6

I awake the next day to the sounds of Alexis getting up and about. Bolting upright, I startle her as she enters the room.

" Oh, Alan! Did I startle you? I'm sorry."

" No, it's alright." I assure, " I'm just…I don't know, kind of tense lately."

The phone rings and I jump.

Alexis giggles. " Boy, you're not kidding, are you? " She picks up the phone. " Hello? "

" Alexis? We need you and Alan down at the station a.s.a.p. A situation has come up." Jill's voice churns at the other end of the line. She doesn't sound panicked, just…anxious.

I wonder what could be the problem.

Alexis frowns. " Sure thing, Jill. We're on our way." Then she clicks the phone down. " Jill wants us down at the station. Something's come up."

I stand and stretch. " Alrighty then. I'll just need a moment to stop by my car and change."

She gives me an odd look.

" I don't mean I'm going to change in my car," I explain quickly, feeling a bit embarrassed about the way that came out, " I always carry some extra clothes with me when I go on trips and stuff. It'll only be a minute."

Minutes later I am changed into a fresh set of clothes and walking up to the B.P.D. once more, feeling rather stupid for not thinking ahead last night. Now I am wearing a black shirt with denim jeans to go with my custom black boots.

And is black practically the only color I own? Seriously, I do not know what is up with Weskers and black attire. Seems to me even my mother and sister wore it quite often. I sigh, thinking of all the dark and dreary colors in my suitcase in the trunk of my car. When I get the chance, I am going to have to do a little shopping.

Naturally, I am wearing my sunglasses again. Sometime in the future I really must find something else to do about my eyes. People who don't already know are going to start wondering; especially on overcast days and at night.

There is much commotion the instant I step into the door. Stacy points to the direction of the door on her left--the one the S.T.A.R.S. members came through yesterday--so fast her arm knocks over a stack of papers in the process. 

The man to her right--a local police officer--nods in unspoken agreement. He is trying to appear calm, but I can smell the fear on him. He is not _overly_ afraid of me, but there is some definite uneasiness. Someone has told him something about me.

" Go all the way down the hall, last door to your left." Stacy instructs, " The S.T.A.R.S. are expecting you."

I hurry on through the door without even bothering to thank her and reach the last left-hand door at a quick pace. **_S.T.A.R.S. Office_**, it reads.

I fling it open.

Everyone is crowded around something in the right-hand corner of the room. They all jump when I enter.

Jill is the first to speak. " Alan, do you know anyone by the name of Clarice Wesker? "

My heart skips a beat. " That would be my mother. Why? Has something happened? "

I rush over to the group and make my way through to see a computer screen displaying my mother's name. Several times.

Claire frowns from beside me. " She keeps trying to get through, but every time we try to accept the feed it keeps asking us for the password."

" _She_ keeps asking for the password," Chris corrects, " We didn't program this computer to behave this way. Watch."

Chris moves the mouse and clicks on 'feed'. A window pops up.

" See what we mean," Carlos blurts, " _This user has requested the input of a password before this task can be performed_."

Rebecca's eyes light up. " Do you know the password? "

" Yes." I make my way to the keyboard and start typing.

" Um, just out of curiosity, what is the password? " Steve muses.

" My birthday. October 2, 1980. 10-2-80. One, zero, two, eight, zero. We use it for almost everything."

" I see," Barry grumps, " And who all knows this password? "

" Just my family." I hit 'enter.'

Another window pops up that says: _checking password…approved! Connecting to audio…_

" Gee, you just turned twenty-three a couple of weeks ago! " Rebecca comments.

" Uh huh." I agree.

Connected! A buzzing radio sound emits through the speakers.

I snatch the hooked-up walky-talky or radio thingy--I'm not really sure what it's called--and press in the button. The static goes dead.

" This is Alan." I say into the device, " Mom, are you there? " I release the button and the static builds up again. There is a tense silence. 

Then, " Alan! Thank God. I was at my wit's end trying to contact someone. Then someone here mentioned a new S.T.A.R.S…." Her words are rushed and tired, " Listen. Spade and I are in trouble. We're being held hostage near the Sambabwia village in Kenya, Africa. It's only a few miles from a major river…I'm not sure which one. This company called Acid Rain has us…they're even worse than Umbrella! Smarter, too. They have all kinds of monsters and super-viruses…I'm not sure what they're going to do to us, but I don't get the feeling it will be a quiet evening at the movies. Our last name is like a curse word over here! And the things they're talking about doing would make Raccoon City look like a picnic…"

" Hold on," I say, " Do you have any idea which building you're in? "

" Um…I think it's a mansion of some kind, but there are labs down here. We've been here for about three months now…Uh-oh. Someone's coming! I've gotta go! "

The reception goes all staticky once more, and I know she will not be coming on again so I turn it off.

Feeling all eyes on me, I face the crowd. " Looks like I'm going to Africa." I state matter-of-factly, " I can't leave my mother and sister in the hands of those madmen."

" I don't blame you." Carlos pipes.

" Do you need to borrow a chopper? " Chris asks.

I shake my head. " Chopper's too slow. I just need a phone. There is an airstrip in this city, right? I thought I saw one somewhere on the way in."

" There is." Jill agrees.

" Steve, could you find Alan the phone? " Chris orders. 

Steve throws a hand to his head in a salute. " Sir! Yes, Sir! Right away, Sir! "

Everyone has to chuckle a bit. Except Barry. I don't think the guy ever laughs.

" This isn't the army, Steve." Chris laughs, " You don't have to address me as 'Sir' all the time. You are to call me Supreme Captain Redfield! "

Steve grabs the phone and hurries over to me; his eyes on Chris the whole time. " Whatever, Rocket Man! " He snickers, dropping a cordless into my hand.

Rebecca has a huge smirk on her face. " You should drop the 'Supreme' part. The rest is hard enough to believe! "

" She's right," Alexis smirks, " you had a heck of a time dealing with my mother."

" It wasn't exactly like she was a normal person." Chris points out brightly, " She even gave Wesker a run for his money." 

I nod my agreement. " And me. That woman can hit! " 

" So far as we know," Chris chimes, " Alexia is still alive. Hey! Maybe that's the answer to our problem! Turn her loose on Wesker. Those two will be at each other's throats in no time! "

I punch in the number to a special department of the Iowa HCF division.

The line is answered on the first ring, " Hello? W.." 

" Roy? " I say, recognizing his voice and cutting to the chase, " This is Alan. I need you to bring that shiny black jet to Bayview, Oregon, a.s.a.p."

" Gee, I don't know if I can do that…" Roy's voice quavers on the other end of the line, " Wesker ordered that the jet be moved at no costs, even by you. And the last person that went against Wesker's orders…" 

I do not have time to debate this. Every second counts when people I love are involved.

" Roy, listen." I growl, allowing my voice to take on a more sinister, dangerous tone, " I'm a Wesker too, if you recall. Perhaps you've noticed that I share the same super-virus as my dad? I could rip out your throat and leave you to bleed to death in your own guts just as easily as he can. So how about a little respect, hm? "

I ignore the surprised stares from my comrades and tap my fingers against someone's desk.

When Roy's voice next comes on, it is thin and shaky. " …Yes…Yes of course, Alan! I didn't mean to…erm…imply I didn't respect you. You want the jet in Bayview, Oregon? You'll _have _it in Bayview! When would you like it? "

" Immediately." I inform my old acquaintance, " Today. I think my jet will be able to make it here in three hours, tops. Let's see…" I glance to the clock, " it's eight-thirty here right now. See if you can have it here by eleven-thirty our time."

Roy is very agreeable. " …Right! Right of course! Eleven-thirty…you've got it! "

" And Roy," I add, just as a precaution, " Do make sure that I am not disappointed."

" Certainly! " He pipes, " Um…is it safe to hang up now, or will you come over and gouge out my eyes if I do? "

I sigh. " Go ahead."

We hang up.

Everyone is staring at me. Oh. My threats.

" Don't take it to heart." I murmur, waving a hand dismissively, " HCF contact. Fear is the only thing some of those weasels understand. You don't have to mean it, you just have to sound like you mean it."

" So you would never really…rip throats out? " Rebecca pries nervously, backing up a pace from me.

I force a grim grin. " Of course not. Not unless I absolutely had to."

" Oh, that's a relief," Barry mutters sarcastically, " for a moment there you were starting to sound like Wesker."

" Sometimes I have to." I confess bitterly.

Judging from Barry's glare, I am going to be on his list for a long time. And I know that most of it is because I happen to look like my father.

Great. Thanks a lot, Dad.

I can't blame Barry for being upset about his family. But I don't think he is handling it very well. The guy needs to get out and get involved in some activities to help ease the pain or something. Deciding he hates me is not going to bring his family back or make him feel any better.

Alexis finds her way to my side. " Hey, I know what it's like." She murmurs, " You would not believe how many people have mistaken me for my mother. And as far as friends go, Mom was in short supply. After the HCF incident, Chris and Claire adopted me to live with them. Ironic, isn't it? "

" My life has just been one long trip into irony." I state.

The next two and a half hours are spent sitting around S.T.A.R.S. and swapping stories while I wait for my jet. With the exception of Barry, I get along great with everyone on the team.

Rebecca is peppy and cheerful. She likes to gab, and has such a cute, innocent face. She asked to see my eyes, and before I knew it everyone in the room was gawking at them.

Steve has quite the sense of humor and an ego the size of Texas. He has to be the hero of every story. During this time I hear of his engagement to Claire and wish them luck with their soon-to-be wedding.

Carlos, I learn, is the leader of Bravo Team. He has a sort of South American accent and is very knowledgeable in the field of weaponry. A very friendly type, he seems to have his head on straight. I hear he used to be with Umbrella's countermeasure service one time. I can tell by the way he talks and acts that he used to have a thing for Jill, even though he tries to hide it. I'd be willing to bet he's a little resentful towards Chris. But I have to give him credit for keeping cool about it. He is one of the most laid-back people I have met.

By talking to Jill, it has become obvious to me that everything I know about her is correct: she is very smart and cunning. Although she does seem to have a healthy emotional side. She is friendly enough, but I do not get the impression she knows quite how to take me.

Claire I love like a sister. She has a lot of faith in me, as I do in her. I would guard her with my life. I've seen a bit of a wild side to her, and I admire that. My own wild side is something I don't think I'd like to tap into. Claire's definitely a rebel, and there's nothing wrong with that.

Barry's feelings towards me go without saying. All he can do during this time is make wisecracks comparing me to my father; which I don't appreciate. I'd tried to like him at first, but now I find I just can't. He is too much of a Gloomy Gus who never has anything nice to say about anyone or anything.

Chris is almost the same as I remember him, though a little more hardened. I can tell by his body language that, although he still considers me a friend, he is a little angry and upset with me. And I know that about ninety-nine percent of it has to do with my whole reaction to my father. Though he is not downright rude to me, he makes it pretty clear that he wishes I would have sided with him on the whole wage-war-on-Wesker deal. I almost feel like I'm walking on eggshells around him.

Alexis…she's something else. I have never felt as strongly connected to anyone as I do her. It's like we relate in everything. She seems to know exactly what I'm going through and exactly how I'm feeling; and always just what to say. It's creepy how well we relate.

I also must admit that I feel a romantic flare for her. Sometimes when we touch it's hard to resist the urge to give her a kiss.

This is perhaps the mother of all ironies--Weskers and Ashfords generally get along like Montagues and Capulets. Shakespeare almost could've been writing about our families--minus the viruses, of course.

Sherry is away babysitting for the Redfields again--I guess they pay her pretty good--and, thankfully, Natasha appears to have dropped off the planet. Nobody's heard from her since she announced earlier this morning that she was going to go shopping. Hopefully she is going to go home back to whichever city she came from. Now that she's found out what she needed to know, I can see no reason for her to hang around the Bayview S.T.A.R.S.

About fifteen minutes before I intend to leave for the airstrip, I excuse myself to go outside and get some fresh air. I go around the building and stand with my back turned about a hundred yards from the almost closed window where the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. are still holding their conference.

They would be surprised to know that I can hear every word they are saying just as clear as if they were standing only a few feet away from me.

Without turning around, I know that more than one of them are looking out the window.

" Are you thinking what I'm thinking? " I hear Jill ask, though I cannot tell without looking who the question was directed at.

" Yeah." Chris agrees.

" We should go with him." Claire joins in, " I mean, to rescue his family from the evil clutches of a new virus company. It'll be just like old times."

" Too much like old times." Chris sighs.

" Hmph." Barry, of course, " Alan's superhuman. He does not need our help to rescue his family. Besides, we have work to do right here in good old Bayview."

I sniff the crisp autumn air and try to appear at ease. Fall is here, and I smell winter right around the corner. 

Well, winter and a few other things. There are times when it does not pay to have a heightened sense of smell.

" Hey, has anyone else noticed that without Alan around we're all sitting ducks for Wesker? " Steve notes, " I mean, Wesker didn't seem too hot on the idea of fighting his equally-powered son, right? "

" If it weren't for him our children would be dead." Jill sighs.

" You have to admit," Claire adds, " Regardless of how we feel about it, the fact is that Alan is much stronger and faster than we are."

" Doesn't make him better than us! " Barry, again.

" Maybe not." Claire agrees, " But it does make him better able to stand against Wesker."

" That's not going to work, Claire! " Chris huffs, exasperated, " I didn't get the impression that Alan hates his father. He told me flat out he would have nothing to do with killing him. I can't understand it! I can't understand why he insists on protecting him so much! I mean, yeah. That _is _his father. But his father is a cold-hearted killer! Can't he see that? Wesker is like a dog with rabies. He needs to be put down. For good."

They are silent for a moment.

I gaze off into the distance, but I am not really looking at anything in particular. I wait for them to say more.

" My parents are also cold-hearted killers." Alexis adds softly after a moment.

" Yeah, but right now your parents are not hunting us down like animals in some sick, twisted game! " Chris fumes, " I don't know what to do! The time we need Alan the most he bails out on us."

" He wants to save his family." Carlos rectifies.

" Yeah, well who's going to save _us_ from his family? " Chris snaps, voice thick with anger and frustration, " I've been up against Wesker before. Not even a rocket launcher would do against him. He moves like the Flash and he hits like the Hulk. We have no way of knowing where he'll strike and when, and it's not like he's going to wait until we're all bunched together and waiting with guns. The way I understand, he has highly developed senses and we're not likely to catch him off-guard. Other than Alexia, the only other person I know coming anywhere near that kind of power is Alan. I wanted to believe we could do this on our own. But the more I think about it, trying to defeat Wesker without Alan would be a lot like trying to kill a pack of zombies with only a pairing knife. We'd need more than a little luck. And until then, not one of us is safe. Well, except for Sherry, maybe."

" Maybe Wesker will go to Africa and help free his family." Rebecca suggests.\

" Yeah," Steve snorts, " As far as we know, Wesker doesn't even know his family's in danger. What are we gonna do, tell him while he's tearing our guts out to do the decorating with? "

" Assuming he doesn't think we're just making it all up to save our own butts with." Claire adds helpfully.

" Hey." Rebecca cuts in, " Maybe Alan isn't taking our side because we haven't really given him a reason to."

" What do you mean? " Steve.

" Welll…" Rebecca drawls, " I think he can sense that some of us don't really trust him just because he's Wesker's son. Not only that, but the good side of his family is in trouble an we're all 'oh, you need to borrow a chopper?' like it's not even a big deal. But he made sure we were safe. I know he's not now, but who are we to make him choose between us and his family? Don't you think that maybe we're being a little selfish? "

" Not at all." Barry spits, " We couldn't trust his father and we can't trust him. For all we know, he still might be waiting to lead us into a trap. Maybe the whole child-rescue thing was just a ruse to get us to trust him more so that he and Daddy could spring the trap at just the right time."

" Barry, you're a real jerk, you know that? " Alexis growls, " Just because someone's parents are evil doesn't mean they will be. Need proof? Look at me. I sacrificed almost everything I had in order to lead a halfway righteous life. I'm the black sheep of my family, and you know what? I'm proud of it! Everyone in here…all of you guys. You're my family now. And I wouldn't trade you for the world."

" Aw…that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." Steve purrs.

" Thank you, Alexis." Chris beams, " I needed to hear that."

" Hey, I do what I can." Alexis supplies, " And I'm going with Alan to rescue the Wesker girls. The rest of you can do what you want."

" I'm going too! " Claire pipes, " I owe him that much. Besides, it's been awhile since our last evil-company-showdown brawl."

" I go where Claire goes." Steve says.

" You'll need a medic." Rebecca.

" Hey! No way is the whole Bravo team leaving without their captain!" Carlos gushes.

" Well then, I guess I'd better go too." Chris mumbles, " Since nothing I say will probably change your minds." 

" Not me." Jill declares, " I'm going to take the children out of town where hopefully they'll be safe."

" I'll go." Barry pipes.

_What?!_

" What?! " Everyone says in unison, just as surprised as I am.

" I might not be a Wesker fan, but someone needs to make sure you don't get yourselves killed. Besides, not to beat a dead horse, but it's not like I have a family to worry about anymore."

Okay. So they want to come with me. I'm not going to try to stop them. I can use all the help I can get, and it's not like they're inexperienced whiners or anything.

I turn and head back to the front of the office. Step in. I have barely crossed the threshold when I am greeted by all of S.T.A.R.S.

" We've…we've decided to come with you." Chris says rather sheepishly, " I hope that's alright."

I give him and the team two thumbs up. " Sure. No prob. I'm going to the airport now to pick up my jet. Um…I don't really know the way…"

" I could show you! " Alexis offers eagerly.

I like that idea. " Great. You can ride with me then."

" Um…I don't suppose you'd have room for me, too? " Rebecca blushes.

" Sure. The more the merrier."

" Hey, carpooling saves on gas." Carlos approaches me, grinning, " I can't let Mr. Stud Muffin here ride off with all the ladies to himself."

" Carlos! " Rebecca gives him a playful swat.

Carlos grins like an idiot. " Oh, we have a live one! " He laughs.

Alexis gives a mock-scowl, " Sometimes I think Chris must've been pretty desperate to post you as Bravo's leader." She teases.

That rouses chuckles from everyone save Barry. Mr. Doom and Gloom. I think it would kill him to have a good time.

" Well, everyone else who's going can ride with me." Chris announces, rubbing his hands together, " Let's load up and get this show on the road! "


	7. Africa

****

Chapter 7

Half an hour later finds us boarding my black jet at the Bayview airstrip. The pilot that had flown it in leapt out and handed me the keys without even questioning. I could see the fear in his eyes as he turned to head away. Roy must've scared him.

Maybe I overdid it on Roy.

If the rest of S.T.A.R.S. notices, they give no indication. Within a minute we are all on board: Claire, Steve, Chris, Barry, Carlos, Alexis, Rebecca, and, of course, me.

True to her word, Jill opted to sit this mission out and make sure her kids were safe. Can't say I blame her. They really need their mommy now.

" Wow! This is a really cool flying machine! " Steve whistles, " Must've cost in the megabucks. And it's all yours? "

I follow Steve's eyes over the new high-tech equipment and sleek, futuristic look of the interior.

" Well…kinda." I say as I start towards the pilot's seat.

" What do you mean 'kinda'? " Barry narrows his eyes on me suspiciously, " Either it is or it isn't."

" Actually, it belongs maybe a teensy bit to my father, too. But it's _part_ mine! "

Claire claps a hand to her face. " Oh great," she muses, " _another_ one of Wesker's jets! As if he didn't already have enough reason to hate us."

I watch as Carlos looks around to all the fancy gadgets and decorating, impressed. Then he gives me a thumbs-up. " Dude, you and your dad have taste! "

" There's a few seats around, as you can plainly see. Sadly, I don't think there's enough for everyone…sorry. Some of you will have to find a place on the floor."

There is some gruff mumbling as everyone decides who will sit where.

I head for the cockpit.

I have scarcely gone two steps when a hand falls on my shoulder.

I spin around, resisting the urge to lash out with my fist. Another reflex. It isn't a very good idea to sneak up on me.

Chris is standing there warily, looking more edgy than I feel. " Do you want me to fly? "

I brush his hand off my shoulder, irritated. " No thanks. I've learned to fly since last we met. I can handle it."

I brush past him, drop into the comfy pilot's seat, and flick a few switches. The engine roars to life and I check the gages to make sure everything is in working order. Everything seems to be…oil, fuel, navigational equipment… I put the jet into motion and start to circle around for the runway. 

Unfortunately, there is an airplane in the way and I nearly crash into it.

Chris chuckles to my side. " You sure about that? "

This time I never even noticed him sneaking up on me. I am too busy avoiding the plane and trying to keep the jet on the runway to answer him right away.

" Okay, maybe I'm a little rusty." I admit once we are finally started down the strip and rapidly gaining speed.

Chris laughs a bit more. " I'll say! " He reaches across me and flips a switch that was apparently invisible when I last looked. " You didn't have your thrusters on, how did you expect to get the lift you need? "

By now I am sure my face is the color of Jill's hair. How embarrassing! Especially in front of the captain of S.T.A.R.S.

" Okay, so maybe I'm not Air Force material," I gush once the jet lifts into the air, " But I'm fine once I'm in the air. Though sometimes the turbulence can be a bit rough…"

" Speaking of rough, I hope that doesn't describe our landing." Chris comments as he turns back to the passenger area behind me. " You need anything, just call. I'm going to rally the troops, so to speak. Can be a bit tough at times with this pack of hyenas."

" Yeah, and see if you can do something about Barry," I add, " he acts like he's on Grouchicillin."

Chris turns his head back and gives me a sad, exasperated sigh. " He's always like that." He mumbles before turning back to face his team.

The first few hours of the trip were pretty uneventful. For entertainment, I mostly just listened to the others gossiping in the back.

It wasn't until after the first fuel-up that things started getting a bit interesting.

Just for fun, I started to do a few loop-the-loops and other aerial stunts that about gave some of my companions a heart attack. I was being careful--it wasn't like I hadn't practiced--and some of the others; including Claire, actually thought it was fun.

However, Chris and Barry had different opinions. Chris insisted that I was being immature and Barry insisted that I really _was _trying to kill everyone. From Barry's tone of voice, I suspect he was joking, but I can't be one hundred percent sure. The man has all the facial expression of a stone gargoyle.

So I stopped the stunts and resumed flying normally, much to everyone's relief. 

Hey, just because the mission is serious I can't see any reason to be allergic to fun like certain Redfields and Burtons. I told them they needed to live a little.

When I said that, Chris forced a dry laugh and told me I must've gotten that from my mother.

I resisted the urge to make a wisecrack about the similarities I was starting to see in him and Barry. I value my life! Not that I'm really afraid of them, of course, but it just didn't seem like a good idea to make the old sourpuss even more sore.

Still…it felt good to be able to relax a bit again. When I'm not having mental and physical crises, I love to ride in the lighter side of life. Just to have fun like some showoff surfer at the beach who nearly breaks his neck in the big waves just to impress the girls.

Oh, to be so carefree!

Heck, I wouldn't mind living dangerously and whipping on my other virused brethren, so to speak. Fighting does not bother me. Battle's a breeze. 

Usually, it's the internal conflicts I have the most trouble with--the ones where my super-virus can't help me. What's right, what's wrong...what to do in this or that situation…it can wear a guy down.

Especially this deal with my father and my friends. 

I wish I could hate my father. I wish he would mutate into some big butt-ugly monster with no traces of human memory and then I wouldn't feel so bad about helping to take him down.

But I also don't wish that.

And at the same time I don't want him to hurt my friends. It is a catch-22 that I don't like to think about.

I don't want to choose sides, but I'm a little afraid that I might lose both sides if I don't. Nobody likes a double-agent, and it's not like everyone's just going to kiss and make up.

I know I can't play the peacekeeper for much longer.

If I didn't have a little fun every now and then I'd probably go insane. 

Or end up smashing things. 

Either way would not be good. Especially since, when I smash things, I don't fool around and they generally get smashed up pretty good.

_Hey, there's another possible career opportunity_, I think sarcastically, _I could be a one-man wrecking crew!_

Hmm. I wonder how much they'd pay.

Once we are over Africa, I use the onboard navigational system to find Kenya and then Sambabwia.

Just like Mom said, it isn't far from a river. A river with a name I can't pronounce. It is night over on this side of the world…three in the morning, to be more precise. Sambabwia doesn't appear to have an airstrip, but the radar does detect a longish building just off it's outskirts.

Is that where Mom and Sis are? It's worth a look.

Since there is no airstrip, I start to bring the jet down onto a flat, sparsely-grassed field.

Chris hovers over me, watching me like a hawk to make sure I don't goof up again.

" Are you sure this is the right building? " Rebecca asks once we land in the field not two hundred yards away.

" Not one hundred percent, no." I admit, " But I didn't see any other buildings fitting Mom's description. Besides, someone around here _must_ know _something_."

" Great." Steve grumbles, " I just hope we can find someone who speaks something other than African."

" Actually," Alexis interrupts, " In this part of the world we're most likely to encounter Swahili." 

We all turn and stare at her.

She brushes a strand of silky blonde hair away from her face before asking, " What? " 

" Swahili! Great! " Claire rubs her hands together in false enthusiasm, " Anybody here know how to speak it? " 

More blank looks.

I've never even _heard _of Swahili before. And judging by everyone else's faces, neither have they.

Alexis blushes faintly. " I know how to ask where the restrooms are. And that's it. Funny, huh? I actually knew a few Swahili phrases before, and the bathroom one was the only one I remembered."

Steve laughs. " Hey! That's something! "

" That's helpful! " Rebecca beams cheerfully.

" Yeah, if we need to use the restrooms." Carlos says, then adds, " Come to think of it, that _is_ a real life saver! Gotta have those restrooms! And has it ever occurred to anyone else that the secret Umbrella bases in Raccoon City had far more bathrooms than any other business in the entire city? "

" Wouldn't doubt it," Claire's face brightens up, " I did see quite a few. Boy, that is one way in which Umbrella was nice to it's employees! "

" Yep." Carlos nods, smiling, " They used us as guinea pigs, sent us into dangerous situations, lied to us, killed us, and experimented on us. There were times we were without food, without weapons or supplies, without a clue. But we were _never_ without a toilet or two. One thing you can say for Umbrella…you'll never have to wait in lines to use their restrooms. They have double the amount of them as they do people."

Chris frowns. " I can't even remember where the restroom at the R.P.D. was."

" As fascinating as all this toilet talk is," Barry cuts in, his voice as deep as his frown, " We are at some point going to get out and look around, right? "

I spring up and laugh. " I guess we got off-track! " The sheer silliness of it all has already put me in a better mood.

" Off-track? " Claire giggles, " We completely derailed! "

" But in a funny way." Steve adds brightly, picking up his gear and checking his side-pack. 

Everyone has side-packs strapped over their S.T.A.R.S. uniforms, except Claire and Alexis who carry only a few light weaponry.

All I have is two guns: a magnum and a beretta, each strapped to either leg and halfway in my boots, completely hidden from view.

I seldom use guns anymore, and I'm not even sure why I still even carry the beretta around--I could do more damage throwing rocks. It is the one my father gave me the night he got back home from the mansion incident. He told me it was special in some way, though he never explained how. Fathers. Ever since, it has followed me around like a habit. I must think it's a good luck charm or something--kind of like an old pair of slippers that's worn out and ready for the trash, and you know you really should throw them away, but you just can't because they are so comfortable and familiar. 

Not that I've ever had a problem with slippers.

In any case, I did not bring along any extra ammo for the guns. They're loaded, and that's it. I'm just as lethal--maybe even more--with my hands. Oh well, I think, maybe I'll need to loan one out.

" Well, let's go." Chris decrees, frowning as he unlatches the door and brings the steps down.

I lead the way out first, detecting many new scents in the air. I have never been to this part of Africa before, what was I expecting?

I climb down and walk a few paces into the dry, yellow-brown grass. It crinkles beneath my boots.

I scan the mostly flat, open plain for any signs of life. Or trouble. 

A few small, gopher-like animals scurry about in the grass--hyraxes, I think. Seen some on the Discovery Channel before.

A cobra slithers off into higher grass almost a quarter a mile away. 

There are many snakes around; most of them poisonous. Luckily, none are too close to where we have landed. The vibrations from the jet must've scared them off.

A dingo bounds off behind some bushes, abandoning the remains of a kill.

All this I can see in almost complete darkness, and even if I couldn't see it, I'd be sure to hear it. Amazing senses, T-2 virus grants.

My friends stumble out of the jet, and I know they can't see a fraction of what I can. For some reason, this makes me feel responsible for them. Kind of like a leader.

_Nah_, I tell myself, _I'm not their leader. Chris is. He can have that responsibility. The last thing they need is another Wesker messing them up and putting their lives in danger._

One of my biggest fears in life has always been a friend dying in some way because of me. I wouldn't like that kind of responsibility. Or the guilt that would go with it.

" Whew! Kind of warm out here, isn't it? " Rebecca wipes a hand to her forehead in demonstration.

Come to think of it, it _is_ hot. And humid; for nighttime. I'm guessing around seventy-five eighty degrees. And the sun isn't even up yet!

Claire stares at me and cocks an eyebrow. " How can you _see_ with those things on? " She indicates my shades.

" Trust me," I assure, " I can see just fine."

" Must be a virus thing," she mumbles, " I'd be as blind as a bat." She turns to her brother, " Where to? "

Chris looks around. " Umm…" His gaze falls on the big building we have not landed far from. There are a few lights on inside.

" That building. That is why we landed by it, right Alan? "

A familiar scent catches my nostrils. Not the coppery, poisonous smell of the T-2 virus that Dad and I carry in our veins, something else.

T-virus. T-virus smells kinda like moldy cheese spritzed with raw, decaying meat left to dry in the sun a few days. It is not a pleasant smell. The air is thick with it's stench.

I can tell right away that the airborne form is beyond being contagious right now, but who knows how many people have already been infected? 

My eyes flit over to the big building. I strain to listen, wishing I had X-ray vision…

" Alan! "

" Huh? " I snap around to meet Chris's stern gaze.

" We called your name three times! " Barry barks, crossing his arms, " Wake up! Get with the program! "

" What's wrong? " Claire asks gently. She tilts her head as if to ask 'are you okay'?

I frown. " T-virus is loose over here. The airborne form is not contagious anymore, but we'd better be careful."

" T-virus? " It is Chris's turn to frown, " How can you tell? " He re-checks his magnum to make doubly sure it is loaded. 

" I can smell it."

" No way! " Steve gawks, eyes lighting up and betraying that he really _does_ believe it, " Nobody can smell _that _good! "

" Steve! " Claire gives her fiancée a rough jab to the ribs with her elbow, smiling about it the whole time. 

" You're not one to talk about smells! " Alexis teases, " Were you absent the day they passed out the deodorant? "

" Can you really smell like that? " Carlos says quickly, almost cutting Alexis off.

" What? Like deodorant? " I laugh, playing along.

Carlos shakes his head, vibrating with laughter. " You know what I mean! "

I nod. " Yes. I have a very acute sense of smell courtesy of T-2 virus."

" Really? " Rebecca prods, " How does T-virus smell? "

I wrinkle my nose. " Bad."

" Nonsense! " Barry booms, " He's just pulling our chains." 

I turn to Barry, lock eyes with him through my shades. 

He stands indignantly, as if challenging me to challenge him. Alright. Challenge accepted.

" You had two beers last night. And you also had a Big Mac and fries. No ketchup? What is with that? "

Barry is totally shocked. His jaw drops in a comical little 'o.'

I grin smugly. " See? Not pulling chains."

Chris scowls at Barry. " Beers? "

" I never drink on duty! " Barry rasps, giving me a dirty look.

I can't resist. " Hey, it's not my fault you drink." I start for the building. " I'm going to check it out."

" Okay," Chris agrees, " We'll come in behind you…"

I zip off before I can catch whatever he might have said next.

Something is wrong here. My spider sense is tingling.

Not like they've never faced zombies before, but if there is real danger I want to be the first to encounter it. 

********************************************************************************

**__**

A/N: These last few chapters have been a bit short, I know. And not so much with the action. But I was just building up--my next chapters are really going to pick up in the action! 

Also, you can expect the return of the Ashfords… 

This is going to be a long story---hang in there. ^_^ 


	8. Alan vs Tyrant

****

Chapter 8

The building is a large office-type structure dull in appearance and five stories.

Hadn't Mom said she was in a mansion-type building? I don't like this. Still, this was the building closest fitting her description.

I jerk the door open--perhaps a bit too roughly, I end up breaking the knob off--and step inside a dimly lit foyer.

The first thing I notice is a huge picture above the stairwell of one of the ugliest women I have ever seen. All bony and skeletal with hard, sharp features and more of a beak than a nose--she reminds me of Yzma off 'The Emperor's New Groove'.

Yes, I watched that show. It was hilarious! I loved it.

So now the question becomes: why would anyone want to hang such a hideous portrait in the foyer and frighten all the guests away? Hmm. Obviously someone who doesn't want visitors.

The T-virus stench is stronger in here; along with rotting flesh and a trace of something new. Something dangerous I can't quite put my finger on, but it's definitely not my father.

It occurs to me that he said he was going to Africa, too. Could this be the same village?

I slap a hand to my face and let out a frustrated sigh. I certainly hope not. Which means it probably is: the irony gods have a cruel sense of humor where I'm concerned.

There is a thud, thudding of several sets of awkward feet just to the door on my left. A normal, unvirused person would hear it, but to me it sounds like a herd of drunk elephants gallomphing around in the halls. Then I hear the trademark sad moaning.

Yep. Just your average zombies. I'd better put the poor things out of their misery.

My eyes dart to the far wall where a huge fireplace looms; choked with soot and begging for an actual fire. There is a long, sturdy fire-rod propped against the bricks of the mantel. In a flash I have it, in a flash I am at the door on the left; drowning out the irritated voices of the S.T.A.R.S., sore that I left them behind in such a hurry.

The metal rod is all the weapon I need. I could just smash their skulls in with my bare hands, but I don't want disgusting zombie-goo all over my flesh and clothing.

I pull the door open swiftly, jerking it off it's hinges without even meaning to.

An ugly, diseased-looking zombie spattered in blood starts towards me--it's arms outstretched and flashing an hideous, rotted smile that rivals the portrait in the front room.

Before I had my virus, zombies scared me. Now I scare _them_. 

Or I would if they had half a brain and knew what I was capable of.

" That's right," I say as I ram the metal rod right into the zombie's neck, effectively severing it's head from it's shoulders, " Time to die…again!"

I really shouldn't make fun of them, I know. They are just the hapless victims of an accident, and even if they were evil they probably didn't deserve _that_. Still…it's not really them. Just their shell. And zombies are so easy--and fun--to make fun of.

Two more zombies, straight ahead! The corridor is narrow, so they are practically in a straight line. That's asking for it.

Combining my incredible speed with my incredible strength, I use the rod as a vaulting pole and hit both zombies right in the kisser with the heel of my right boot. I land stomping on their heads with dead and congealed blood and brains splattering everywhere.

A fourth zombie staggers forward. I backhand it with what amounts to a slight tap. A tap that sends it's head exploding against the wall.

" Hah! That'll teach you! " I laugh, enjoying myself.

It is so cool to have this much power!

" Having fun? "

I turn, startled.

Claire stands in the threshold of the door I ripped off it's hinges, arms crossed and mocking an angry expression. Then her lips twitch a bit, giving her away.

I look down to the mess I have made on the floor. It is a picture for the slaughterhouse.

" Killing zombies." I state, feeling like an idiot for even saying it. It's not a lie, but I would be more truthful if I agreed _' yeah, having fun '_. I don't want her to think I'm bloodthirsty or anything.

Carlos pushes her aside and makes a face at the gory spectacle. " Man, I'm glad you're on our side. You didn't even use a gun."

" Didn't need to. Why waste bullets? " I reply, trying not to sound too happy.

" Man…" Carlos's eyes meet mine, " Where were you when Jill and I were fighting the Nemesis? "

Suddenly, there is a boom so loud the floor shakes and trembles beneath our feet. It is followed by a piercing scream coming from the opposite end of the facility.

" Move aside!" I warn my comrades.

They step back and I zip through the hall right past them into the foyer. They follow at a much slower pace. The rest of the gang is just starting to filter in through the front door.

There is another crash; through a door straight ahead.

Somehow, Rebecca beats me to it. " Dang! It's locked! We're going to have to…"

I gently shove her aside and give the door a swift kick that busts it down and inward onto the floor of the next room like some type of weird doormat.

Rebecca's eyes widen. " Or we could just do that."

A nightmare awaits us in the next room. A young woman lies sprawled helpless against the wall, eyes wide in terror as a huge, hulking tyrant closes in on her. The scent of blood is rich in the air. She's wounded. The tyrant is very close to her. In one moment it will all be over. He raises one massive arm… 

I am there in a flash of speed, catching Tyrant's arm with my own. Now we are face-to-face. I haven't been this close to a tyrant since the HCF incident five years ago when one nearly killed me.

But this time will be different, oh yes. This time Tyrant will lose.

" Hey, it's not polite to go hitting on girls." I taunt, " What's wrong? Other mutants too tough for you?" But I know my words are lost on this ugly behemoth.

He lets out a savage, guttural roar from his stinking mouth tries to hit me with his other fist--this one ending in a club. I catch it in my free hand and notice his other arm ends in four razor-sharp claws no less than three feet long.

Great. Just my luck to get stuck with Wolverine.

Tyrant struggles in my grasp, pushing against me with all his might. He is very strong, but he cannot break my hold.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of the rest of the team standing in the doorway. They look spellbound. 

" Um, guys? I could use a little help here, if you're not doing anything."

I intend for them to shoot the monster while I am holding him still.

However, the lickers pouring in through a gaping hole in the roof I had failed to notice earlier have different ideas.

Perfect. I can wrestle Tyrant, but I can't be in several places at once!

On the bright side, being attacked by lickers breaks the team out of their trance. Within seconds, the place is alive with the deafening reports of firearms. But there's no time to worry about that, I have a tyrant to kill.

Tyrant is enraged. He simply cannot comprehend how someone as helpless and insignificant looking as me, a mere human, can hold him back.

" Braaaaaaaawwwww!!" He bellows, hot air and breath that could kill a horse chocking up from the bowels of his throat, " Brrraaahhrraaaa!"

I have to hold my breath. It stinks like a cesspool.

Fortunately for me, Tyrant is too dumb to try and kick or trip me. He simply wants to plow on through me like the brain-dead brute that he is.

Unfortunately for Tyrant, I don't play fair. My right foot flies up and kicks the beast where it counts--right between the legs.

" Braaaaaaaa!!!" The room vibrates with his cry of anguish, mixing in with the shrieks of the lickers and ensuing gunplay.

I feel his grip relax just a little. That's all I need.

Digging my nails into his sick gray flesh, I muster all my strength and fling him through the wall.

Not _into _the wall, _through_ the wall. 

He lands on his back atop a pile of rubble out in the foyer. I don't intend to let him get up.

Quick as a striking snake, I leap up into the air, pass through the hole Tyrant's body made, and bring my fist down into a diving punch that connects with his ghoulish face. It smashes like a pumpkin. 

" Yuck!" I gag as gray and deep purple brain-matter explodes under my fist, covering my right hand in a sickening goo. 

The head is completely destroyed. Tyrant's body twitches a bit as blood spurts from it's smashed coconut.

The gunfire has ceased. 

I run back into the room to see the gory bodies of several dead lickers laying sprawled at the feet of my friends. All eyes fall on me.

" Where's Tyrant?" Chris asks, wary.

" I rearranged his face." I reply, holding my goo-covered hand up in demonstration, " Fortunately, he wont be recovering from the surgery."

The others turn their faces away in disgust, all except Steve who seems fascinated.

A soft moan emits from one side of the wall behind an overturned easy-chair.

The young woman. I'd almost forgotten about her during all of the commotion.

Rebecca is the first to her side, the rest of us following closely. She opens her medi-pack and sits the woman in an upright position against the corner of the wall.

The woman is thrashed--cuts and scrapes run along every visible inch of her flesh and blood flows like a river from three huge puncture wounds in her stomach. Her brown hair is matted in bloody clumps. Both of her eyes are black, and two deep cuts zigzag across her face intersecting with smaller, less serious wounds. She looks as though she has been to a glass factory and fallen through several sheets. Her breathing comes in short, sharp bursts.

It will do no good, I know, for Rebecca to try and doctor her up. The wounds are fatal. Several internal organs have been damaged beyond repair. She's going to croak any second now.

" How bad is it? " Claire asks.

Rebecca frowns, realizing the poor woman has no chance. " Bad. She's dying."

The woman's eyes had been shut. Now they open and focus right on Alexis.

" Don't….Ah…...Ah…Ashford," She says feebly, " Ahlecks…Ah…"

" Take it easy." Rebecca dabs some ointment on the woman's puncture wounds, causing her to flinch. Then her eyes go wide with complete, utter fear. She is still staring straight at Alexis.

" Alexia!" She yelps suddenly.

Alexis is taken aback. " Where? " She scans the room before putting a hand to her chest, eyebrows arched in surprise, " Who? _Me_? I'm not Alexia. I'm Alex**_is_**. I know I look a bit like Alexia, but…" Alexis stops mid-sentence.

It has become painfully obvious that the woman is dead. She died right after saying Alexia's name. 

I am willing to bet that is not a good sign.

" Alexia?" Claire's expression is unpleasant. " Do you think she's here in Sambob…Sambib…wherever the hack we are? "

Chris shakes his head. " She _might_ be. This woman obviously knew Alexia, or else she knew something about her. She thought Alexis was Alexia."

Steve grins, aiming a mock-punch at Alexis. " Who hasn't made that mistake five or six times? "

Alexis slaps his hand away a bit roughly. " Hey, my parents were twins. It shouldn't come as a surprise that I resemble them. Who am I supposed to look like? Oprah Winfrey? "

" What we mean is you really, _really_ look like Alexia. You're not identical, but…" Steve trails off.

" Sorry Alexis," Claire grins, " but you look as much like Alexia as Alan does Wesker."

" Which isn't a bad thing," Steve adds quickly, " I mean, she is one hot chick. Well, when she isn't mutated."

" Yes." Chris agrees, " That did kinda take the shine off, didn't it? "

I walk over to stand by Alexis.

Chris gives us both a lopsided grin. " You two can look like your parents as much as you want. Just don't act like them."

" Believe me," Alexis smiles, " I have no intention of mutating myself into a giant ant-monster."

" And I have no intention of ripping out your spinal column and strangling you with it." I tease, " Well, not yet anyway."

Chris makes a face, disgusted. " Wesker really talks about doing that to me? "

I am truthful. " Constantly. Killing you is his favorite subject."

Chris looks sick.

" Welcome to my world." I say.

" Alright everyone," he pipes suddenly, regaining a more dignified posture, " This may or may not be the right facility to find Alan's family. So we're just going to have to look around and find out what we can. We know T-virus has been spilled here--big surprise--and that there are zombies and monsters loose all over the place…in other words, a completely normal mission where evil Umbrella-like companies are involved. While I can't argue that there is safety in numbers, we'd cover more area in less time if we split into two separate teams. I don't know about all of you, but I want to spend as little time as possible here."

We are silent, waiting for him to continue. 

" Let's see…." Chris's eyes fall over each and every one of us in turn. " There are eight of us here. Two teams of four…there should be an Alpha leading each team…"

" Hmphf!" Barry snorts, " The only Alphas here are you and me, Chris."

Chris frowns. " I know."

Carlos raises his hand like he's trying to ask a question in class, " Hey! I volunteer to be an Alpha! "

I have to give him credit--Carlos has the right attitude. I like it.

" Okay, so who's on what team? " Rebecca asks, trying to sound casual.

" Welll…" Chris drawls, mulling it over, " I'll lead one team. Barry can lead the other. Carlos, you and Claire are with me. Alexis and Steve can go with Barry…dang. This is going to be tough…"

" I have super-fast healing, remember? " Steve volunteers suddenly, " And I'll bet Superboy there does too." He jabs a finger in my direction, " We should be on the same team, the one least likely to need a medic. That way, Rebecca can be where she's needed most."

Chris sighs. " You have a point, but I'd hate to put Alan and Barry on the same team…"

" It's alright with me." Barry announces, surprising me, " I wouldn't mind being on the same team with Wesker Junior here. I want to keep an eye on him." Barry's words are light, almost friendly.

But the glare he gives me could melt lead. I wonder if anyone else notices it.

" Alan, how do you feel about this? " Chris asks, leaving me a way out.

Alexis can be on the same team with me…the idea is too enthralling. I can put up with Oscar the Grouch long enough for _her_.

" It's alright with me." I agree, cracking my knuckles. My left hand touches the goo on my right hand, and I frown, pulling it away. " Barry can keep an eye on me. Or two if he wants. I promise not to hurt him." I glare at him and try my best at an evil grin, " Much!"

I feel my eyes light up and know they must've glowed red right through my shades. At first I couldn't' control it, but now I find it increasingly easy to control when my eyes glow.

Barry blinks, startled. But it only lasts for a second before his familiar scowl returns to replace whatever emotion he almost had.

I resist the urge to scowl right back. This is not a schoolyard and I am not a ten year old.

" Alright then," Chris declares, rubbing his hands together, " Let's split up." 


	9. Mauler

****

Chapter 9

I leave the room under Barry's lead with Alexis and Steve in tow. We go back into the foyer while Chris, Carlos, Rebecca, and Claire search further into the room we just exited. They agreed to search the right side of the facility while we searched the left. We have radios in case of trouble.

As we pass by, I notice everyone staring at my tyrant kill laying sprawled across the floor like a big ugly lump of grayish garbage.

" Wow." Alexis marvels, " You did that just with your fist? "

I nod. " Yeah. Hey, Barry. Do you think maybe we could stop by a sink somewhere so I can wash this goo off? It's very uncomfortable and it smells like a really cheap cologne. "

Barry just stares at me, his expression unreadable. Of course, Barry is not exactly Expression Man anyway, so it's pretty hard to tell _what_ he feels.

I find this disturbing. Emotionless people…the ones who never show anything…are the ones you have to watch.

He puts a hand to his chin and scratches his beard stubble, as if debating whether or not my hand should be washed.

" If we find one." He says at last. At least he didn't bark it.

Steve tosses his weapons of choice--two submachine guns--up into the air. " So, which way do we go, O' Fearless Leader? " He attempts--and fails--to catch his weapons before they hit the floor.

I resist the urge to twiddle my thumbs and irritate Barry. This is taking far too long.

Barry's gaze falls upstairs. So does mine. I can hear things moving around up there. Heavy things.

" How about we try upstairs first? " Barry says more than asks, " It's as good a place as any." He leads the way upstairs with Steve practically on his heels.

I trail behind a bit in the back, closer to Alexis.

She winks at me as we go up. " Don't worry about Barry, he's always suspicious of people. You especially. Just play it cool and you wont have any problems." She leans over and whispers in my ear, " _I'm _not worried about you turning on us."

" Great." I whisper back, slowing my pace a bit, " Is that the current worry of the team? Me turning turncoat? "

Alexis gives me a sly grin, a spark of something magical in her eyes. " They'll get used to you. They got used to me."

Barry freezes at the top of the stairs. " You two coming or should I send a taxi? "His tone is not pleasant. His eyes bare down on us like angry lasers.

" We're coming! " Alexis mumbles.

I glare up at him, annoyed. It wouldn't be so bad if he were just joking. I can take a joke. But I detect no trace of humor in his words or actions. He is just being a world-class jerk.

My eyes suddenly feel very warm.

Barry's frown deepens even more, if that's possible. " Alan! Stop doing that! "

" Doing what? " I reach him at the top of the stairs.

" Your eyes, they're doing that weird glow-thingy."

Steve grins. " Cool! "

My eyes? Oh. That tends to happen sometimes when I am feeling a strong emotion. Like anger.

I tone my eyes down. " Sorry, that just happens sometimes." I comment, " Side-effect."

Barry seems satisfied with the answer. " Well….just try not to do that too much, okay? It's…creepy."

" I'll try." I mutter. 

I feel like punting Barry clear across the room. Maybe play a little soccer with him as the ball. Not only does the man have the facial expressions of a gargoyle, but the attitude of one, too! Being on the same team as him is going to be a real test of my patience.

Just up the stairs lies a majestic corridor that spreads in three directions in a 'T' shape. We can go left, right, or straight. 

I don't see any zombies, but I sure do hear them. Their sad moaning is probably going to haunt me in my sleep. It is such a hopeless, morbid call…I hate even thinking about it.

That's the reason I'll go out of my way to kill a zombie--nobody deserves _that_ kind of eternal torment. Well, that and the fact that I do not want the T-virus to spread.

The sounds are coming from all over--it is impossible to calculate how many zombies there are and in precisely which rooms.

" Let's go straight." Barry orders.

I was going to suggest the left, but his guess is as good as mine.

As we head down the hall, I notice the carpet is all done in a deep, bloodred color. Pictures of people getting killed hang on the walls. 

How cheerful.

Barry enters a mahogany door with the image of a noose carved into it.

" Is it just me, or is anyone else starting to notice a general theme? " I ask.

Alexis shudders. " Not just you. This place reminds me of a tour of Ashford Manor with my family."

" For just once, can't they do something in greens or blues? " Steve grumps, " Everything's always about blood and death. Can't they do anything about puppies and dolphins? Or even dragons and unicorns. I can see right now how they could have a whole theme going on with fantasy…"

" They already have a place like that," Alexis giggles, " Disneyland! "

Steve's eyes widen. " You mean Disneyland is owned by Umbrella? The horror! Well, I always did think Pirates of the Caribbean was maybe a _little _spooky. What's next? A tour through a nice bloody torture chamber? Or maybe they'll do something with zombies and tyrants…"

" A sink! " I pipe. The room we have just entered is a kind of kitchenette. Weird place to have one.

I almost zip over to the sink, squirt some Palmolive on my hands, and start scrubbing away. Once I am done I grab my black biker gloves from my pocket and slip them on.

There. That should cut down on goo and grime.

Steve laughs at my display. " Geesh, my mother would've loved you! She was such the hands-cleaning fanatic."

Barry heads over to a desk and starts rifling through some papers. He is over ten feet away from me, but when he holds up a neatly typed paper I can clearly read all the small print over his shoulder.

" Hey," Barry says suddenly, " Anybody heard of a company called R.A.I.N.? "

" No," I admit, " though it does sound similar to Acid Rain." 

Rain, Acid Rain…connection?

" Rain. Umbrella." Steve laughs, rubbing one gun against the other, " Everybody's trying to get in on the act."

" Rain…" Alexis chews her lip thoughtfully, her eyes gazing straight up at the ceiling. " It does seem I've heard that before." She frowns. " I can't remember where."

" Well Acid Rain hates them. Bad." Barry folds the first paper up and starts reading another. " Hmm…Umbrella and HCF are also enemies of theirs."

" Is that a good thing or a bad thing? " I wonder, " Are they true _enemies_, or just rivals competing at the same things? "

My eyes gloss over the next page, but good as my vision is, I cannot read all of it. Barry's shoulder bars a portion.

Apparently R.A.I.N. has…or had...some research that all of these other companies wanted badly. Though I definitely do not get the impression that Acid Rain is allies with Umbrella or HCF. The author of the passage used some choice words to describe them and their level of intelligence. Dipsticks, numbskulls, as brainless as their zombie creations…no. That is definitely not the sort of things you say about your friends.

Then I hear it--a strong, heavy thudding sound coming from directly below us.

For some reason, it sends chills up my spine. Odd. It's been a long time since I've been frightened of something other than my dad killing all of my friends.

The thudding intensifies. My heart beats faster.

Whatever it is, it's coming up…right through the ceilings and floors!

" We'd better leave. Now! " I yelp.

I make a move for the door.

The thudding stops.

" Why? " Barry eyes me suspiciously.

" Didn't you hear that? "

" Hear what? "

" The thudding and crashing. Something's coming, something big! "

Barry shakes his head. " I didn't hear nothing."

Steve and Alexis look less sure.

" Come on." Alexis grabs Steve by the arm, " We'd better go. I don't get a good feeling here."

" Nonsense." Barry mutters, " There's nothing here to…"

There is a single earsplitting _thud_ coming from just under us. It sounds like wood exploding into splinters. It is so loud that even Barry must hear it.

" Okay then," Barry agrees, " We'll go." 

Right. _Now _he listens.

But we never get the chance to make it to the door--wood and metal suddenly explode in front of it like a mine going off.

At first I think another tyrant has somehow leapt through the floor. The creature standing before us is also humanoid, nine or ten feet tall, with two arms, two legs, and a head. 

But the resemblances stop there.

This creature is bulked--like a tyrant on steroids. It's greenish flesh is covered in thick scales like a dragon. Twin horns each over two feet long jut out of it's jagged skull. It's hands have too many fingers…each one ending in a wicked talon no less than eight inches long. 

I wince. Those scaly fingers look awfully strong.

The Herculean legs end in feet that look like they belong on a tyrannosaurus rex. Three long toes with steak knives for toenails. The creatures eyes glow an evil red.

It grins, revealing a mouthful of tiny, triangular teeth like a shark's. There must be hundreds of them! All in four rows…because I have enhanced vision, I have the displeasure of seeing what the others do not: tiny bits of decaying flesh stuck between those teeth.

Do I really need to see that? Sometimes superpowers suck.

" Graaaaawwww!!" The beast lets out an earsplitting roar so loud the entire room shakes like we're in an earthquake. I have to cover my ears.

All at once, gunfire explodes.

Steve rattles away on the submachine guns.

Barry blasts with his magnum.

Alexis fires her Uzi.

The bullet's ricochet off the armor of the beast and only narrowly miss hitting their senders.

" Stop! You'll kill yourselves, it's bulletproof! " I yell.

They stop and run my direction, realization dawning that they are trapped in here. The massive creature blocks the only door.

The monster swipes at Steve. Four bright red lines appear in his arm. They look deep--down to the bone. 

Steve utters a cry of pain before reaching Barry and Alexis near the wall.

I place myself between them and the beast.

" Alan! Do you think you can tear through walls? " Barry hollers.

" Oh, sure! " I call, " If this thing plans on letting me! "

I swerve and avoid a blow to the side even as I speak.

My eyes focus on the creature's arms. I grab the next one as it comes smashing for me. 

Strong! So terribly strong! I have to use both hands just to keep it from crushing me.

" It's strong! " I breathe, bracing myself and shoving back as hard as I can, " Try to escape! I'll distract it! "

The creature makes a gruff, snorting sound that could almost be laughter as it slashes my side with the razor claws on it's free hand. Pain stabs through me like knives.

This wont do! I have to lure it away from the door…away from the others. I purposely give a little, letting the creature think it is besting me. Then I suddenly shove upward and twist to the side, turning the monster's arm at a painful angle. Before it can recover, I yank down and flip the monstrosity over my shoulder, slamming it to the ground.

" Hurry! Get out of here! " I call. 

I grab the tyrant-monster by one of it's tyrannosaur feet and pull it across the room, leaving my friends clear for the door. They do not waste the opportunity.

But now the monster is mad. While I am preoccupied with making sure the others make it out, it lashes out with one foot and kicks me in the middle, sending me halfway through the wall.

It is a good thing it caught me with only the flat of it's foot and not those horrible claws, or I would be in a great deal more pain right now.

The others are gone. I can hear their footsteps fading down the hall.

Great. Now all I have to worry about is myself.

The creature gets up, glaring at me hatefully.

I spring up as if I had not been wounded at all and dodge a desk thrown at me.

" Mrrrrraaaawww! " The beast is not happy.

Neither am I. I've had about enough of being tossed around by some ugly overgrown bogey-monster. I have T-2 virus, and intelligence to boot. This creature is powerful, but so am I. And _nobody's_ going to be safe with it roaming around.

I zip out from behind the overturned desk and assume a fighting stance while sizing the beast up. Too bad most of it's body is covered in that thick, bullet-proof armor. I'm probably going to have to severe it's head.

The beast charges! Of course, I am no longer standing where I was a second ago and it's blow connects with the desk, splintering it like it were a match-house.

Yes! Now I am right _behind_ the creature! Time to do some butt-kicking. Literally. In a blur of speed, I leap up and kick the monster right in it's scaly, putrid keester. The beast goes flying face first into the wall where I'd hit only moments before, taking half the furniture with him and sliding halfway into the next room; which happens to be a bathroom.

If I can just get his head I can break his neck…hopefully. I pounce on the back of the monster and grab for his head. He bucks up forcefully, causing me to lose my balance. I grab the backs of his horns for support.

Maybe I shouldn't have.

Towering his full height now, the beast thrashes his head to the left and smashes my left hand as well as part of my arm right through the vertical edge of the corner! Now it is my turn to holler in pain.

Seeing my grip loosened, the beast grabs me by my injured arm and throws me into the other room. My head hits the edge of a lower cupboard to the sink hard enough to break it. I look out through a red haze of pain, seeing stars. Knowing my survival depends upon it, I stagger to my feet.

Only to be greeted by the sight of Mr. Big glaring at me, grinning so wide it must hurt.

" Well, you're still standing? Hm. You're tougher than most rodents."

It talks! " You _speak_?! " I marvel, examining my mangled hand briefly before returning my attention to the beast. It's not a pretty sight. Bloody and torn with broken bones and muscles ripped and popping out of their usual places. My glove hides part of it, thank god. The first half of my arm is nothing but a huge red welt. It feels as if I am sticking my hand into burning coals, and even worse when I try to move it. Even with my enhanced healing, it's going to be awhile before I can use this hand again. A half hour at least.

Somehow, I doubt the beast is going to wait that long. He is stronger than I thought--I realize I have made a mistake in trying to fight him in such an enclosed area.

" I am Mauler, the destroyer of life." The creature goes on in a gruff voice that sounds like sandpaper grating sandpaper.

I roll my eyes, noticing for the first time that my shades have flown off. " Oh, so instead of Bruiser or Buster you're Mauler? What a name. Is that supposed to strike fear into my heart? "

" You are cocky for one about to die." Mauler snarls, running an ugly purple tongue over the edges of his shark's teeth, " You have a spirit I could like. It's too bad."

" What do you mean _too bad_?! " I snort, " If you don't want to kill me, then don't! " 

" You will die! " Mauler dies, " You will die because you have challenged me. Nothing challenges _me_ and survives! "

" I see." I move away, eyeing the room for anything I can use as a weapon. Chairs…no…desk…no…fluffy pillows--sure, I think sarcastically, I can suffocate him!

I twitch my left arm a bit, sending waves of agony through my hand. Ever so slightly, the pain in my head is beginning to dissolve. I can feel my virus hard at work.

Mauler lumbers closer. Then he stoops over to pick something up…something shiny and metallic.

The magnum! It must've slid out of my holster while I was taking a dive for the cupboard! I can _not_ let Mauler get _that_!

Ignoring my screaming arm, I zip over and kick him square in the head--right between his two oversized horns. His head flies up and backwards in a whiplash effect. I grab for the magnum clutched in his huge palm.

_Bam!_

There is a horrible, piercing pain in my right kneecap. I drop to the floor, barely stifling a cry. The bullet went right through my knee! A _magnum_ bullet! Blood spurts everywhere. My right leg is practically useless. 

Somehow, I did manage to knock the gun away from Mauler. Having time to do nothing else, I use my good leg to kick it flying beyond reach. No way I want to be shot again.

Before I know it, Mauler is bearing down on me again. I struggle up, try to dodge his blow, but I am much slower this time and he grabs me by the neck and bashes my head against the wall. The red stars dancing around my head explode. It feels like the night Alexia almost killed me, only I am still conscious.

Mauler hoists me up by the throat until I am eye-level with him. The stench of his breath fills my nostrils. Mauler licks his teeth with his tongue again.

" My, what pretty eyes you have. I smell a virus in your blood. A strong one. You should be a delicious snack."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a pen lying on a shelf just to my right. If I can just reach it…my fingers stretch for the pen, but I keep my eyes glued on Mauler. If he guesses what I am about to do I'm doomed.

Mauler smacks his crusty lips…if you can call them that…and drool dribbles down his chin.

My fingers twine around the pen. Happily, it doesn't have a lid on and is one of those razor-point pens. Beautiful.

Mauler tightens his grip around my throat, threatening to crush my windpipe. " Any last words, vermin? "

" Yeah," I say as I raise the pen up and plunge it pointy-end first into his bulging red eye, " You lose! "

Mauler howls in pain and rage. Thick, murky red blood spurts from his destroyed eye. I retract my hand, ball it into a fist, and hit the protruding end of the pen as hard as I can, driving it even deeper. At the same time I twist my body and lash out with my left foot, catching him square in the chest. 

" Mrraaaaaaaawwwwnnn!" The building is alive with his hideous bellows of agony.

His fingers slither off my neck like snakes as he tumbles backwards. 

I drop to the floor, pick myself up. I have barely regained my footing when, in his rage, Mauler kicks the overturned desk at me.

There is no time to move. The office furniture hits me like a bullet, and I go flying with it….right through a window! 

Shards of glass burst out as I go plummeting down like an angel cast from Heaven.

_Thud! _I hit the ground.

_Wham! _The desk hits me.

Everything goes black.


	10. Trek to Sambabwia

__

A/N ( Good news, my loyal fans! For those of you interested, I am posting a new short-story centered around the births of Ash and Alexis Ashford. It's called " Legacy of the Ashfords " and details the births of the two. =)

Chapter 10

I awaken to the sound of someone talking. A male voice. A familiar voice.

" Alan! Get up! You have to get up, _now_! "

Huh?

There is something heavy on me, blocking my sight…where am I? Pain…my body aches in a dozen places. Maybe I'll just lye here for awhile, recuperate. It would feel better than trying to move.

" Alan! " The voice booms.

Who is that? Why are they yelling so loudly?

" Get up! " There is a pause, " Or just lye there and let the zombies feast on you, whichever."

Zombies? Zombies! It all comes back to me in a rush---Mauler, the fight, the window…a zombie moans from uncomfortably close by.

No. I have absolutely no intention of becoming the main course at a zombie feast. I shove up with my hands and push the desk off of me.

The crescent moon comes into view. The smells of T-virus and T-2 virus are very strong. A zombie grins down on me, ready to lunge in and take that first bite. I spring up like a jackrabbit and smack it in the face, knocking it's head into orbit.

Two more zombies start my way, their rotting flesh falling off with each step they take. I leap up and perform a roundhouse kick that takes both their heads off. That's what they get for walking so closely together. I look down at my kills.

All darkly complected and almost naked. Natives. Probably from the nearby village.

Most of my pain is gone now. My left hand is completely healed. So is my knee. I take it that must mean the bullet passed right on _through_ my knee--even my flesh cannot heal around an embedded bullet. My cuts and scrapes are all gone with only dried blood showing where they used to be. Which brings the question: How long have I been out?

At least 40 minutes, maybe more judging by the rate of which I am healed.

I still have a few slight aches, but even these are fading fast.

I look around. Still night. And I am right outside of the building. It's strangely silent.

It occurs to me that I still do not know who was calling my name a moment ago, telling me to get up.

" Who's there? " I ask. 

The faint chuffing of a lion from somewhere in the distance is my only answer. I don't detect anyone nearby…weird.

" Who's there? " I call again, " I wont hurt you. I want to thank you for waking me up. Where are you? "

No reply.

I stand there for a minute, waiting.

Then my eye drifts up to the broken window I have fallen through. I hear no sound coming from up there. Did I manage to kill Mauler? There's only one way to be sure.

I leap up into the second story room through the shattered window. Mauler lies motionless in the center of the floor--the pen embedded almost beyond sight in his left eye. I detect no signs of life coming from him.

Hah! I walk on over and kick the body. " That's what you get for messing with a Wesker, you ugly sonuvabitch! " 

I hear a bustle of activity from several stories down. Voices. But they are muffled by the moans and general noises of the zombies.

Then it occurs to me that I still have my radio. I pull it out….perfect. Somewhere between my brawl with Mauler and getting flung through the window, my radio got smashed beyond repair. I throw it to the floor, disgusted. So much for that.

The scent of gunpowder leads me to my fallen magnum which somehow got lodged behind a toilet in the bathroom. I yank it free and return it to it's holster.

Through the reflection of a mirror, I see that I am a mess. My shirt has several gashes in it in addition to being soaked with my own blood. Bits of my dried blood cling here and there. My hair sticks out at every angle.

I stare into the mirror and my slitted red and yellow eyes stare back with fierce intensity. Is it just me, or are they a little shinier than usual?

Is this really the way I look to everyone without my shades on? No wonder I scare people.

I take a few moments to wash up as best I can and smooth my hair back to a less frightening style. 

There. I'm still not Prince Charming, but at least I won't be confused for a zombie. It turn and head out of the bathroom.

That's when I notice part of the black frame of my shades sticking out from beneath Mauler's body. 

Oh great. They are crushed beyond the telling of it. And that was an expensive pair!

Mauler finds ways to anger me even after his death!

Or did I kick him onto my sunglasses?

Hm. Maybe I better stop thinking about it.

I leave the room and enter the hall; looking for clues as to which way my friends went. Even though I smell just as good as any bloodhound worth it's salt, I still have trouble now and then honing in on one particular scent and following it. Especially when lots of T-virus is involved. 

T-virus really throws me off-track. It smells so strongly it eclipses everything else. Even though I smell that my friends have been in the hall, I still can't tell which way they went. 

I decide to try retracing our footsteps. This leads me back into the foyer, where the scent of gunpowder still lingers strongly in the air. Tyrant is still on the floor, taking his eternal nap. A zombie stumbles into the room.

" Uhhhhhnnnnn." 

I grab a little marble figurine sitting on a small stand near the stairwell and throw it at the virus-carrier, taking it's head off. The corpse falls to the carpet without another sound.

It's too quiet in here. Why this has not occurred to me sooner, I do not know. But I hear far less of zombies stumbling around or even the scratching of monster claws.

From somewhere far below, a faint ticking. Probably a clock.

Then the faint smell of something…TNT! It hits me like a wave. This place is going to blow!

I zip out the front door nearly as fast as the Flash himself and make a beeline for the jet.

Right away I see the rest of the group gathered there, just standing around anxiously. None of them look the least bit happy. Not even Steve, and he's usually our comedian.

A bolt of fear flashes through me as I reach them in a frenzied blur.

" What happened?! " I come to a dead just inches in front of Claire.

She jumps about two feet.

" Oh," she says, relieved, " I thought you might be Wesker. You came up so fast…"

" There's a bomb in there! " I announce.

" We know," Chris mutters, " We got the heads up from an employee. He was very helpful, but he somehow managed to escape us in our wild dash to escape the bomb. This was all a setup. That place is going to blow any second now. By the way, where were you? I couldn't get a hold of you on the radio." He holds his radio up in demonstration. 

I frown. " My radio got smashed while I was fighting a super-beast called 'Mauler.' I won, but he managed to rough me up quite a bit and knock me out a window. I've been unconscious for awhile…lost my sense of time. But not my common sense. If there's a bomb, why are we all just standing here? "

" We should be relatively safe from the blast at this distance," Rebecca provides, " besides, someone stole the keys to the jet. Make that the keys, and the battery, and some very important fuses. We can't get her off the ground."

Chris straightens and puts his radio away, pressing his lips together in a straight line. " Alan has a point. We should be moving. At this distance, there's no guarantee we won't be hit by flying debris when the place goes up."

" Um, where do we go, Captain? " Steve asks, " It's so dark out here…"

" That's why we have flashlights." Chris cuts in, raising an eyebrow, " What's the matter, did you forget yours? "

On cue, everyone in the group pulls out flashlights from their side packs and flips them on. All except me.

And Steve.

Steve blushes a bit, embarrassed. " You know, I was going to bring one but…"

" Never mind that! " I cut in, " We need to move, now! Sambabwia's over that way, I can see it from here."

" You can? " Chris shines his light in the direction I point. It is not a powerful flashlight, and Sambabwia's about a mile away through the grassland. I can make out the forms of lots of little huts and smoke from campfires rising into the sky like eerie black plumes of death.

Chris doesn't seem so sure. " Are you sure it's that way, Alan? I don't see any buildings."

" Of course you wouldn't," I seethe, trying not to let the anger of being second-guessed slip into my voice, " It's a small tribal village in the middle of nowhere in Africa. What do you expect, skyscrapers? Trust me on this one. I have really good eyes."

Chris shrugs. " Okay then. You can lead the way."

I start out across the grassland, my comrades trailing closely behind.

From somewhere in the back, I hear Barry's muffled voice whisper, " Are you sure this is a good idea? Remember what happened _last_ time we followed a Wesker? "

" Barry, we've been through this." Chris says wearily, in an equally as quiet voice, " Let's not go through it again. If I thought for one second…"

Chris's words are cut short by an earsplitting screech coming from the village. It sounds like a woman either dying or about to. Worst of all, I cannot see exactly where it is coming from. Probably a local villager biting the dust. 

Who knows how long this town has been infected? How many people had the chance to escape? 

I'm hearing lots of weird noises out there. I even see a few hunters in addition to zombies lurking around outside the huts.

" That doesn't sound promising." Carlos remarks, as if we needed _that_ pointed out.

" No, it doesn't." Alexis agrees, " So…Alan, did you…I mean, your mother and sister…"

" They weren't in there." I finish, knowing what she is trying to ask, " I didn't hear, see, or smell them. I'm sure I would have if they had been anywhere around…"

My words are cut short, the deafening explosion of the building behind us being leveled. 

I turn and watch as chunks of flaming, fiery debris catapult every direction like they are being fired from some ridiculously big gun or cannon. A fiery mass of deep reds and yellows converging with orange puffs up into the sky in an inferno.

I cover my ears to help block out some of the thunderous noise.

A pillar of black smoke rises into the air. Flaming rubble lands on the dry grass, and I know it will only be a matter of moments before the whole grassland is ablaze.

The others reach the conclusion at the same time I do.

" We'd better get moving! " Claire starts jogging ahead. Straight for a warthog den half hidden in the tall grass. I've seen enough nature programs to know what a wild warthog can do to a person who invades their turf; those tusks are pretty dangerous weapons.

I lunge and grab Claire by the shoulder before she can get within ten feet of it.

" Hey! What's the…" 

" Warthog den." I state flatly, " You almost walked right into it."

Her eyes go wide. " Oh."

To the rest of the team, I say, " Come on! There's a small stream up ahead and a little bridge going across it. The wind is in our favor right now, but I don't know how much longer that will last."

We head for the bridge and stream, me in the lead and making sure we don't stumble into a cobra or some other African nasty.

It's a pretty humid night--overhead, stars twinkle brightly against the backdrop of a dark sky. I see them almost as well as if I were looking through a telescope. Dark clouds are moving in at a furious pace, bringing the threat of rain. 

Good. We could use some out here before the fire spreads too much.

" What's still bothering me," Chris announces as we approach the bridge, " Who took the stuff from the jet? I mean, obviously it wasn't a zombie. Why would someone go through the trouble of taking that stuff just so the jet couldn't fly? "

Flashlight beams play across the wooden front of the bridge. I estimate it to be about thirty feet long.

" Obviously someone who doesn't want us to leave." Alexis supplies.

Something occurs to me. 

" Okay, scenario time." I turn around and hold up one hand as if I am swearing an oath or something, " Suppose you're loose in a virus-infected African village and suppose, just suppose, you're not a good person, if you know what I mean. Why go through the trouble of sabotaging a jet? Wouldn't it make more sense to just fly away with it? Even if you're a looter, this is awfully dangerous territory. Bonnie and Clyde themselves would not have wanted to stay anywhere around here even if the area was full of abandoned banks."

That catches their attention.

" You make a strong point." Carlos wipes a hand across his face, " I can't even see Nicholia sticking around here. Raccoon City was bad enough, but now we're way out in the boonies. Hopefully we'll find something useful in the village."

Everyone just sort of nods their agreement.

I am about to turn away when Rebecca adds, " Something else to think about: the keys, battery, and fuses….I got a good look at those wires. They were interwoven in a pretty complicated pattern. Whoever took the fuses not only knew enough about aircraft to know exactly what to take, but they were pretty careful not to damage anything. I mean, it would've been much easier to cut the wires or smash the controls. I didn't see so much as a scratch anywhere."

That sends a nice chill up my spine.

Dad.

This _is_ the African village Dad was talking about. And he knows we're here.

It makes perfect sense that he would want to keep us here without damaging our jet. He wants us in Sambabwia. He wants us in the heart of it all. Probably even has some traps set. He must figure that he has a better chance of taking out S.T.A.R.S. if we're all preoccupied fighting zombies and mutations. It's the perfect place for surprise attacks. And, of course, he knows that I will not be in any real danger.

However, if we were to be separated… Dad's right: I can't be in several places at once.

I suddenly feel very sick. I never told the team there was even a possibility of my father going to Africa.

Foolish! Thanks, to my selfishness, I have put them all in very real danger.

And they're supposed to be my friends.

_Way to go, Alan, _I mentally scold myself, _way to show you care._

It is the Spencer mansion all over again and I am the Wesker leading them into danger and possibly their deaths. Just like my father.

We start across the sturdy wooden bridge, the water glinting beautifully in the light of the stars. I barely notice it.

" Yes, that is odd," Chris agrees in response to Rebecca's observation, " Alan, what do you think? "

I can't even bear to look at them.

Why was I so self-centered? Why didn't I tell them before they agreed to come with me on this mission?

I could've went alone. With only myself to look after, I probably would've fared much better anyway. Why the hell did I just _assume_ this wasn't the village my father had been talking about? It should've clicked right away. I'm normally pretty fast to pick up on these sorts of things.

I should've known better. Should've, should've…way too many should'ves. I feel a knot twist in my stomach. If anyone dies, it's going to be at least partly my fault. My fault they were ever here in the first place.

We step off the bridge and back into the grassland, the dull roar of fire in the background.

Sambabwia is not far off now.

The group is talking, saying something behind me, but I cannot concentrate on their words.

I'm too busy having thoughts of my own.

Sudden movement!

I freeze and someone bumps into me.

" Hey! Why the…" Claire complains, then stops.

The grass and shrubs start to rustle. That's when I see them--several distinct lion shapes getting up from the ground.

I should have noticed them much sooner.

A big male stares at me hungrily with one eye missing from it's socket. That's not all he's missing. He's also missing a heartbeat, most of his flesh, and both ears. What once may have been a proud mane hangs loose in dirty, decaying clumps around his neck. Patches of skin are absent all over his tawny body, revealing red wounds with teeth marks and tissue hanging out with bare bones exposed in places. His rotting flesh reeks of the T-virus.

He looks--and smells--like he's been dead for several days.

I scan the grasses. The lionesses look no better. There are at least eight of them--all over. We are surrounded.

The flashlights of my team illuminate several decaying faces of a once proud species.

" Lions! " Carlos calls, more than a note of worry in his voice, " Of the dead variety! "

" Oh f…" Steve starts, but it is too late. 

The lions attack!


	11. The Quartet of Doom

Chapter 11

The first lion--the big male--leaps for _me_, luckily.

I say _luckily_ because even being an undead lion he is no match for me. Gunfire explodes from all around, and the lion floats towards me through the air as if in slow motion. My fist flies forward and hits him right in the jaw, smashing it completely and knocking him to the ground.

" Not tonight, kitty." A lioness leaps out of nowhere and hit me in the side, bowling me over.

Sharp fangs sink into the flesh of my arm. It catches me completely by surprise.

" Mmmmrroaaaawwwwll! " The zombie lioness growls, explaining her feelings to me.

I bring up my other fist and hit her right between the eyes so hard my hand actually goes _through_ her decaying skull.

I make a face and jump to my feet. " This is just sickening! "

Great. Now I'm going to have to wash up _again_. I swear, when I was training with Dad, he totally glossed over the whole subject of getting zombie goo all over your hands.

Somehow, the male lion has managed to stagger up. Even with his lower jaw hanging by mere threads from his mouth, he still attempts to tackle Rebecca.

She shoots him in the forehead with a magnum and that is the end of it.

Magnums, machine guns, grenade launchers…the others do not need my help to finish off the rest of the pride--within minutes their lifeless bodies litter the ground. And this time they do not get up.

Rebecca grimaces at the bloody body of a lioness killed by grenade launcher right at her feet. " See, this is why I hate T-virus! " She fumes, " Those poor lions! Not only do innocent people get infected, but innocent animals too! "

Steve nods his agreement. " Yeah. I'm pretty sure a normal pride of lions wouldn't have attacked us like that. Well, they _might_ have, but once they heard the guns they would've hauled butt. Gee, what happened to the _nice_ mutations, like Kitty? "

" Poor Kitty." Claire sighs, frowning as she reloads her automatic machine gun, " She was pretty fearsome to look at, but she was just like a big friendly dog. Actually, kind of like a mix between a dog and a cat. Too bad she didn't make it out of that base."

Steve sets a hand on her shoulder. " We don't know for _sure_ that she didn't make it out. Maybe she did. Maybe she found someplace safe. We may never know."

I saw very little of the Kiticore beast they are talking about. All I remember is that it was a huge--emphasis on _huge_--lion-like creature with big, leathery bat wings and twin saber fangs. Apparently, it was friendly. Who would've guessed? Easy to tell it wasn't an Umbrella creation. I heard it had intelligence.

The last glimpse I caught of it was when it darted behind an earthmover in that underground cavern years ago.

Dad told me about the explosion. Though it is not _impossible _that the creature survived, the odds are strongly against it.

Dad. The memory has resurfaced, and now I feel like an ass all over again.

About the only thing I can do is just try my best to make this as quick and non-confrontational as possible.

Then something clicks; if the building we were just at was all a setup, then who set us up? 

It's definitely not my Dad's style, and I would have sensed his presence ahead of time.

So who was it? Who else could've known we were going to arrive? 

On top of that, who was the owner of that voice that woke me from my nap under the desk?

And if my mother and sister weren't in that building, where are they?

Disturbing questions.

Hopefully Sambabwia will yield some answers.

We reach the outskirts of the town without further incidence, despite all the nasties I detect lurking nearby. The majority haven't noticed us. 

That's the way I'd like to keep it. As much as I enjoy a good smack-down with virus-infested mutations who think they're gods, I simply don't have the time for it now. I have to find my family before someone gets smart and nukes this place like they do all virus-contaminated areas.

As we step into the city, I notice the ground has turned to dirt with only a few sparse shrubs poking out here and there. No grass. Typical of an African village. The grass that is walked on the most ceases to grow after a while, especially when you factor in the livestock some of these people let wander about freely.

From all around the zombies moan. I don't see very many in the streets, so apparently the majority are too stupid to figure out how to get out of their huts.

These little thatch huts are everywhere: most of them no bigger than a garage. The central street is strictly dirt and riddled with footprints and hoof marks. A few places have flimsy wooden fences to keep their animals in. Most of the village is surrounded by thick brambles, strategically placed to keep the livestock in and the predators out. A few lit torches decorate the length of the walls--the source of the smoke and fire I saw over a mile away.

A few zombies stagger too close and are instantly shot by my friends.

" Well, here we are." I announce, breaking the silence, " If we want answers, we're most likely to find them here."

" Answers like who set us up? " Barry grumbles, casting me a suspicious eye, " I have my suspicions."

" Then you're further ahead than the rest of us." Carlos kicks the shell of an empty gourd lying on the ground and watches it roll into the briars.

I try to avoid staring too hard at Barry. It doesn't take a rocket-scientist to figure out he suspects me of the whole thing.

Come to think of it, if I _were_ a traitor, it would make sense for me to lure the S.T.A.R.S. to a remote African village and try to blow them up inside a building. And, seeing as how that failed, it would make sense for me to 'hide' the stuff in the jet and say it was stolen so I could lure them to Sambabwia. 

Well, it would _kinda_ make sense, depending on my motives.

Actually, if I were a traitor, I'd try to split the group up and pick them off a few at a time.

And I _could_ do it. Easily. Almost everyone here trusts me.

But I'm not that type of a person. I've messed up plenty of times, but I don't betray people. I'm not like my father.

Chris sighs, exhausted. " Okay then." He rubs his hands together. I notice he has biker gloves on, just like me. Only his are not covered in zombie lioness brains. Lucky him. " We should fan out and search out the huts."

" Bad idea! " I blurt suddenly, thinking of my father.

I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth.

Chris cocks an eyebrow at me, suspicious. " Really? Why? "

My mouth goes dry. What do I tell him? That my father is here and I knew there was a chance he might be here all along? That would go over like prime ribs at a vegetarian convention. And even if I left that last part out, they would still wonder how their ex-captain knew where we were going.

Naturally, they'd suspect me of being a stoolpigeon. At the very least, they'd suspect me of _something_.

I force the words to come out. " I just think it'd be better if we all stuck together. You know, just in case something _really_ nasty shows up."

" There's not much to worry about, really." Barry crosses his arms, magnum sticking out of one hand, " It's not like we're all armed with a bunch of pop guns. We brought the big guns this time."

" Yes, but there's safety in numbers." I argue.

" You're right." Chris agrees, frowning at me, " But there's also lost time. I don't really think it should take all eight of us to scan things out one hut at a time. We should split into the teams again."

Images of my father laughing as he tosses the bodies of my dead friends at me flash through my mind.

" Okay then, we'll split into…"

I cut him off. " Chris, I strongly advise against this."

Now the whole team is staring at me. Apparently, questioning Chris's judgment is not something that is done often.

Chris looks startled that I'm still even arguing. If he wasn't suspicious of me before, he is now. 

He crosses his arms Barry-fashion and glares at me in an unfriendly way. " Oh? And why is this, Mister Wesker? "

His tone of voice and body language all indicate that he is more than a little agitated with me. He's never called me 'Mr. Wesker' before. Gulp. That's not a good sign.

I catch his eye. " I just have a really bad feeling about it."

I have been told that I have a very strong stare, but Chris's gaze right then causes me to look away. 

And if Chris is suspicious…Barry looks like he's ready to shoot me.

Great, this is sooo what I had not hoped for.

" A bad feeling? " Chris says the words as if they are the punch line to a really bad joke, " I have a bad feeling about _all_ of this. That's why I want to stay here the absolute minimum of time."

" What's wrong, chicken? " Barry sneers, " You have superpowers and all; you're the last person I would expect to go all Brad Vickers. Which is leading me to think that maybe you have some…how shall we put it…ulterior motives? "

" You're wrong! " I snap, finally losing my patience with Mr. Burton, " I'm not Brad Vickers, and I'm not my dad, and I'm not a traitor! I just don't think it would be a good idea to…."

" Little Alexia! " 

My head snaps in the direction of this new voice.

A short, rather plump African woman around fifty years old by the looks of it and wearing a purple and blue floral dress charges seemingly out of nowhere with a huge smile on her face like a grandmother rushing to hug her grandchildren.

I wonder how I missed her--not many places a woman of this size can hide.

" Little Alexia?! " About five people say at once, including me.

The woman barrels right between Chris and I until she reaches a startled Alexis. Then she throws her oversized arms around her in a big bear-hug. 

" Maggie! " Alexis chirps, returning the hug with equal intensity. Her blonde hair seems to glint in the torchlight at that particular angle. I'm glad she decides not to wear it up. It looks good down like this.

" Whoa, you _know _this woman? " Steve pipes.

Alexis releases Maggie and nods vigorously, her whole face lighting up. " I sure do! This is Maggie Evanson. She used to watch me and my brother sometimes when we were little. Maggie, this is my S.T.A.R.S. team. I'm not really a part of the force, but I help them out."

" Oh, I see." Maggie grins, staring at each of us in turn.

I can't help but think Miss Evanson must be a little batty for turning up in a zombie-infested African village in the middle of the night and with a titanic grin to boot. 

Where _did _this woman come from?

" Um, not to break up a touching reunion, but _Little Alexia?! _" Claire tilts her head to one side and studies Alexis like the answer sheet to some school test.

" Oh," Alexis blushes a bit, " Little Alexia. That's my nickname."

Maggie gives Alexis a little love-tap on the shoulder, grinning so wide it must hurt. " Oh, don't you pull that, you little rascal! Your middle name is Alexia! "

What?!

" It is? " Chris's eyes widen in surprise, much like I'm sure mine must be doing right now.

" Er…yeah. Actually, it is." Alexis manages, sounding like she just confessed to pulling all the disgusting pranks at a party, " That was my father's idea, by the way."

Steve rolls his eyes. " Which comes as absolutely _no_ surprise."

" Wait a minute," Claire gushes, " You never told us your middle name was Alexia."

Alexis gives a wry smile. " You never asked."

" Alexis Alexia Ashford. That just sounds so …" Steve pretends to search for the word, " _evil_."

The edges of Alexis's lips tug down a bit in the first phases of a frown. " I know."

The next few seconds are a blur.

Two things happen simultaneously: I hear heavy footsteps approaching and swivel around in that direction, and Maggie suddenly cries out; the whistle of a bullet with a silencer splitting the air.

But there is no time to worry about that, we have bigger problems. _Four_ bigger problems, to be exact.

Four hideous behemoths lumber down the street looking very much like clones of Mauler. Four supertyrants with sharp claws, sharp teeth, and thick green bullet-proof scales covering their bodies.

The Quartet of Doom.

Mauler was hard enough to handle, no _way _I can take on his four brothers and hope to have even a prayer of winning.

They are all still about an equivalent of three blocks away when they spot us.

Because my hearing is extraordinarily good, and because I happen to be paying attention at the moment, I hear their morale-lifting words: " Hey! The non-zombies and the virused one are up there! Let's get them! "

My heart about leaps into my throat.

" Maggie! Maggie, stay with us! " Alexis's voice cracks, snapping me out of my daze.

Oh great, _more_ good news.

We have to deal with the Mean Team, we don't have time to deal with some anonymous sniper!

" Run! " I yell loudly, catching everyone's undivided attention, " It's those bullet-proof supertyrants! "

" But Maggie…" Alexis starts.

I scoop up the fallen woman and flip her over my shoulder. " Let's burn some road! "

Nobody argues.

We run. It is the first time since I've gotten my virus that I've actually ran from a battle.

Because I am behind the others, and because the road is so narrow, I can not zip at my full speed. I'm running at what, for me, amounts to a light jog.

That's when the huge birds--vultures, I think--swoop out of the sky with hideous shrieks.

Zombies stumble into our path. We don't have time to stay and fight them.

With an unspoken order, Carlos and Rebecca dash swiftly to the left and into a huge hut. Zombie dogs burst onto the scene and follow them in; growling and snapping at their heels.

Alexis is just in front of me, and when she darts to the right and down an even narrower dirt road, I follow. We have to dodge zombies and devil-dogs the whole way. Already this has slowed us down, cost us time.

The pounding of the supertyrants' footsteps seem to pound the whole ground now.

A giant bird dives at me and rakes it's talons for my face. I grab it by the throat mid-air and wring it's neck with one hand before dropping it's body to the ground. All without stopping.

It's chaos! Creatures and zombies _everywhere_! Like some big army against us.

Alexis swerves again to the right and into an open field where a little girl looks up from whatever she was doing in front of a hut, startled. 

The girl…she's much too pale to be an African. Fair skin and blonde hair wearing a bright red dress with her hair done up in a little red ribbon. I can't imagine what she's doing out here or how she managed to avoid being killed--she doesn't look any older than eight, maybe.

Of course, weird things should stop surprising me by now.

Alexis heads right for her.

Apparently, we are more frightening than the rotting zombie just a few yards off to her side, and she bolts into the heavy yellow-thatched hut.

Machine guns blare, and the zombie drops dead second before we reach the dwelling and dash inside; slamming the flimsy grass-woven door behind us, for all the good it will do.

We appear to be inside a normal hut--personal belongings are all over with sparse furniture and a few narrow halls leading into separate rooms.

The little girl is nowhere in sight, but I hear her breathing coming from the next room.

Only now do I realize Claire and Steve had also been following us.

Steve leans against a big wooden bookshelf and wipes a bead of sweat off his brow. " Phew! I'll bet we just set a new marathon record! " He pants, " I feel like I've just ran five miles at cheetah speed. "

I gently prop Maggie up against the wall while my friends catch their breaths.

The overweight woman sags forward--her eyes shut and breathing stopped. Red blood gushes like wine from a bullet wound just beneath her neck and a little to the left. 

She is dead. 

Whoever shot her meant business. Too bad I was a little too preoccupied with the supertyrants to see who did it, and it is such a madhouse out there no way I'd be able to hear the culprit through all the commotion.

It's still not over. From a comfortable distance away, I can still hear the beasts galloping around smashing things, confused. The vultures whine. The zombie dogs growl and bark. The supertyrants swear to each other.

Wow, I think, they have quite the command of the English language for being little more than big rock-heads. My money says Umbrella was not in any way even _remotely _connected with the development of such creatures. They're too smart.

The creatures, not Umbrella.

" Maggie? " Alexis pushes past me to lay eyes on her dead friend.

I come up from behind her and gently lay a hand on her shoulder.

" I'm sorry." I murmur. What else can I say? 

Another death. But my heart hurts more for Alexis than Maggie. Maggie's dead--she no longer has any problems.

" Alan." Alexis's melancholy voice is little more than a whisper. She takes my hand and presses her face into it.

Poor thing. Gently, I pull her into a hug.

She wraps her arms around my waist and buries her face into my chest; almost like she's trying to hide.

" Alexis." All other words fail me at the moment.

Tenderly, I run my hand over her silky straw-blonde hair, petting her, comforting her as best I can. It's hard on anyone to lose a friend, even if you haven't seen that person in a few years.

Claire and Steve just stand there with their eyes fixed on us, mild surprise flickering across their faces.

I realize that Alexis and I hugging wouldn't look too different from Alexia and my father hugging.

Throw me a bone, irony gods! Who'd ever guess I'd fall in love with an Ashford, the daughter of my worst enemy?

At least I _think_ it's love. I've never felt quite this way about anyone.

If anyone were to harm Alexis, I'd kill them.

A small noise causes Alexis to look up and pull away from me.

The little girl is edging out timidly from behind a corner.

" It's okay," Claire soothes in a voice as sweet as honey, " We won't hurt you."

She extends a hand out to the little girl. 

Calmly, the little blonde grasps it, keeping her eyes glued on me.

" What about _him_? " She points a trembling finger at me.

Poor thing must be scared out of her wits enough without having to look into my weird eyes.

" He won't hurt you," Claire coos in that gentle voice of hers, " that's just Alan."

" She's right." I assure, " I know my eyes look funny, but I'm not dangerous."

_Well, to children, anyway_. I add silently. I can just imagine the wisecrack my dad would have about _that_.

" I'm Claire." Claire introduces, " And these are my friends Steve and Alexis." She gestures to each in turn.

Alexis raises a hand and waves a few fingers. " Hi." Something that could almost be the ghost of a smile plays at her lips. 

I can relate. Hard to be cheery when you don't feel that way.

The girl is silent. I notice her eyes fall on Maggie, and a strange kind of sadness overtakes her. 

It is now that I notice that she is wearing two rather odd bracelets--one around each wrist. The actual bracelets themselves are metal, but a rough, rocky surface like sandpaper has been fixed around it, and perhaps the strangest thing about them is that they have no designs, jewels, or anything at all to make them more pleasing to the eye. They look just like two dark copper-ish circles. A definite fashion don't, I would think. I wonder why she wears them. 

" What's your name? " Claire presses after a moment.

" Alexandra." The girl says at last. She takes a few steps towards Maggie, then looks up at me--fear starting to well up in her deep blue eyes.

I back away very slowly and pretend to be deeply interested in a bamboo chair sitting off to my right..

" Alexandra." Alexis repeats, " How old are you? "

I take my eyes off the chair to see Alexandra kneeling over Maggie's body.

Odd. Maybe she knew her?

" Um…seven." Alexandra pauses uncomfortably, " Maggie."

" You knew her? " Alexis asks, startled.

" Uh huh. She was my friend. I got separated from my big brother and now I can't find my mommy and daddy."

" Your family is here? " Steve asks, incredulous.

Supertyrant footsteps thunder this way. Uncomfortably close.

" They're coming! " I yipe, hoping I don't sound like a scared weenie.

I really, _really _hate supertyrants.

" Sh…" Steve starts, looks at Alexandra, then catches himself, " Shitake mushrooms! "

" I know a place we can hide! " Alexandra pipes, " Follow me! "

She bounds around the corner and leads us into what I'd guess to be a bedroom. She pulls a large mat off the floor, revealing a hidden hatch which she quickly pries open.

" Quick, in here! " She stars down a stairwell.

We follow single file with me in the lead.

" I'll close the hatch a re-hide it as best I can." Steve announces.

There is a clicking as he fiddle with the wooden latch.

" Where are they? I thought you said you scented them! " A supertyrant booms with all the sweetness and cheer of a seasick pirate. He sounds too close to the hut for comfort.

" I did but…this other scent…" Supertyrant number two trails off, sniffing.

I sniff, too. I do detect a strange odor in the air. It is not bad. In fact, it smells kind of sweet, like sunkissed strawberries or a fresh fruit smoothie with vanilla. But at the same time it doesn't smell like fruit. It's actually kind of intoxicating.

Alexandra leads us down into a well-lit chamber.

I have to stop and stare. It's just like a secret lab base. The floor is composed of hard white tile and the beige, metallic walls have no decorations. There are quite a few potted green plants sitting around in the corners and lining the walls. 

Three steel doors are set; one in each wall. Other than the differently colored handles, there is nothing special about them and no plaques telling which door leads where. Red, blue, and ivory handles.

Oooookaaaay.

Alexandra grabs the blue handle and jerks it open. " In here."

The next room has tawny-brown carpeting and is full of furniture. A comfy couch sits in one corner, a table and chairs in another. An easy-chair is in front of a TV suspended in an upper corner by one of those metal TV holders. There is a remote lying on the wooden cabinet. Two vending machines sit next to the table--one for snacks and one for drinks. There is even a wastebasket nearby. Tall, leafy plants are arranged festively around the furnishings.

This is not a typical African villager establishment--we have just stumbled into someone's secret base.

Overhead, the supertyrants bellow in rage and frustration. That's a good sign. As long as they keep making all that noise, they'll never be able to sneak up on us.

Claire, Steve, and Alexis are all scoping out the room, too.

" Wow." Steve marvels, " Goodbye tacky, hello neat. And expensive."

" Alexandra, where are we? " Claire inquires, her eyes settling on the TV.

I walk over and plop myself down on the sofa, glad for a chance to relax and collect my bearings. 

Alexis sits next to me, still surveying the territory.

" This is Acid Rain's secret base." Alexandra says proudly, glad to be wielder of information. She sits down in the easy-chair and swivels it around to face us. " Cool, huh? "

Claire and Steve sit at the other end of the couch.

" What's so secret about it? " I blurt, " I mean, _you_ knew where it was at."

Alexandra gives a half smile. " Actually, someone showed me where it was; an Acid Rainie. He was awfully nice, he even offered to let me watch videos. I don't remember his name, but he had dark, chocolate brown hair and looked maybe you guys' age. But I didn't want to watch a movie. I have to find my parents."

" Your parents," I repeat, " who are your parents? "

Alexandra frowns, gripping the arms of the chair extra roughly.

" Sorry. I can't tell you. They told me never to tell anyone or I would be punished."

" Well, that's no good," Steve remarks, " Why? "

Alexandra shakes her head, he little red hair ribbon swaying to and fro. " Sorry. I'm not allowed to talk about it."

This strikes me as odd. What kind of parents would go to such lengths to protect their identity? Young children are usually encouraged to give their parents' names in case they get lost. Like Alexandra.

" All right, we won't press then." Alexis says calmly, giving Steve a fisheye.

Steve shrugs. " What? "

" What is Acid Rain? " Claire pries, straightening the hair that fell loose from her ponytail.

" Well, you know what mad scientist are? " Alexandra asks, looking much too young to worry about mad scientists.

" Yes." I cannot stop the frown from monopolizing my face.

" Well," Alexandra continues, tossing her hair back, " Acid Rain is a team of mad _rocket_ scientists. All of them are geniuses. Their leader is said to be the third smartest person in the world."

" Only third smartest? " Steve jokes, " Who's first smartest? "

Alexandra shakes her head. " I do not know."

" So, what do we do now? " Claire asks.

For some reason, they all look to me. 

********************************************************************************

**Chapter 12 to be posted morning of 8-24-03. ( Sunday)**

**_Let me know how you are liking it!_**


	12. Acid Rain

**Chapter 12**

Um….I think we should just sit here quietly for awhile until the supertyrants are gone."

The ground overhead vibrates. I doubt my friends even notice.

Alexis nods. " Sounds like a plan. If you have to hide, this is the way to do it. What a lounge! But I think this sofa should've been a deep burgundy. Beige doesn't really go well with the room."

" Hey, I have a really stupid question." Steve says suddenly, " If we're in a mad genius's base, isn't anyone even at least a little bit worried they might find out and come at us with the ray guns and deadly experiments? "

I shake my head. " They'd be nothing compared to those supertyrants. That last one I fought really did a number on me."

Still…I stand and stretch, the rich scent of the sweet thing filling my nostrils.

What _is _that? And where is it coming from? I inhale, then frown. It seems to be emitting from everywhere at once.

My eyes fall upon the next steel door adjoining the lounge room. I wonder what's in there?

" I'll go and scope things out," I tell the team, rising and starting for the door, " Stay here. Well, unless a nasty finds you. I'll only be a few minutes. I want to get to the bottom of this."

" Okay, but…be careful." Claire insists. She leans into Steve, who nearly jumps in surprise.

Alexis grins at them.

I twist the door handle. Locked firmly. I twist harder. The door pops right on open.

The connecting narrow hallway is rimmed with doors.

I walk past the first few, then, on a whim, I stop and open a wooden door to my left.

Animals. That's what I smell. Many of them, many different kinds. The large room has a long table running it's length littered with tons of instruments, machinery, files, and papers. The place is alive with the sounds of animals moving about.

I take two more steps and see that the entire left wall is nothing but cages filled with animals.

They experiment on animals? I have to check this out.

Each cage has a clear plastic panel with tiny air-holes in place of bars.

The first one I look into contains about a dozen or so white lab mice. Their cage is very well kept up with fresh bedding, toys, a full water bottle, and a food dish filled to overflowing with mouse-seed. The mice look normal enough…no obvious mutations or anything.

I am about to move to the next cage when they suddenly stop and stare at me intently with those beady red eyes.

One stands on it's hindlegs--perfectly still--little whiskers twitching, and looks straight at me. 

The others follow suite, doing exactly the same thing.

I have never seen mice act like this.

Suddenly. Leader Mouse squeaks a few times to the other mice.

All at once, they dash to their food dish, grabbing out only the large green food pellets. As I watch in total amazement, they arrange the pellets to spell out the words 'HI THERE'.

My jaw drops. These are some _smart_ mice! They must be worth millions!

" You…you can spell? " I say aloud, not really expecting an answer.

The answer comes in the form of the mice nodding their heads vigorously, all at once.

" You understand me? " The mice nod again.

" But…you can't talk? "

This time they shake their heads, a little sadly, it would seem.

" Well, nice seeing you! " I move on to the next cage.

What do these people _do_ here?! How did they teach those mice to do that? It's truly amazing.

The next cage holds possibly the most beautiful bird I have ever seen. Sitting on a leafy perch, it preens it's red and gold feathers as if I were not there at all.

The next cage, one on a bottom row, reads '_Caline/Dogcat_.' The black-furred animal in this cage has a long, slender body with stocky legs ending in catish paws. It's snout and head are that of a dog, but it's green eyes are slitted and it has long whiskers like a cat. The tail is bristly, akin to a dog's, and it wags upon seeing me. The whole creature is about the size of a medium dog.

I continue on, peering into the other cages and continuing to be amazed.

Every creature has something special, and one cage even contains passenger pigeons.

Passenger pigeons! I thought they were extinct!

One thing I have to say for Acid Rain--they take excellent care of their animals. Better than pet stores. All the creatures are the picture of health with tidy cages, plenty of toys to keep them amused, and an abundant supply of food and water. Animal rights groups would be proud. If they are in any stress, they don't show it.

And they definitely do not look like the unfortunate recipients of painful experiments.

A pantry in the corner holds the food supplies for all of the different types of animals. Each is clearly labeled with directions on how much to feed and how often.

Alrighty. 

I notice a lonely desk sitting in another corner with a huge fern atop it. Someone sure likes their plants.

Reaching the desk, I open the drawer with a quick pull--snapping the locking mechanism.

A few papers lie within. Just underneath them is a little black diary with the words 'Mark Cyrus' printed on in white ink.

Ok. Time to do a little reading.

The first entry is dated years ago, back in 1997: _I can't believe it! William Birkin is without a doubt the most stubborn man I know!_

Now I'm _really _interested. William Birkin was a friend and co-worker of my father. I'd been to his house on more than just the occasion when Sherry and I flooded the basement. He was usually ok to be around. At least, he treated me decently. Memories… 

I continue on to the next passage: _I've told him numerous times that his special 'G' virus research is just a waste of time. Viruses will never make for good bio-organic weapons because they are just simply too unpredictable. Umbrella is wasting more time and money than NASA and RAIN put together! Viruses…how absurd! Dr. Marcus, Alexia…anyone who wastes time trying to perfect the perfect virus is a few Cokes short of a six-pack. The average third-grader can tell you that viruses are bad. The perfect virus has never and **will never **exist. I just **know** he's going to make himself sick one of these days playing around with things he doesn't understand. I tried to sway him over to my way of thinking. If you want to make animal weapons, why not just use already existing animals and engineer them to have the abilities you want? Like RAIN does with their pathetic crop research. There is no need to inject an animal with a virus and mutate it beyond recognition. But does the cheesehead listen to me? No! He continues his viral studies and ignores everything I say._

May 3rd, 1998: _My curiosities finally got the better of me today, and I asked William how G-virus was going. He says it's almost completed! But when I asked to see a sample, he resolutely refused to let me anywhere near it. Where does he get off treating me like that? If it weren't for me helping him out with some of his equations and formulas when he asked, I'm sure he wouldn't be as far progressed as he is. William is bright, but his IQ is still several notches below mine. Of course, to hear him talk you'd think he was smarter than Einstein. Nonetheless I simply have to know about the virus that could rile William up so…_

May 4th, 1998_: Later on that night I sent Sophie, my genetically enhanced rat, with a carrying strap around her belly to sneak in and retrieve a vial. The mission was a success. I was not impressed at all with the purple gel so lovingly dubbed 'G-virus'. I tested a lab mouse with it, and was instantly sorry. In addition to increasing aggressiveness and size, ( not to mention mutating it horribly ) the virus retards intelligence! What is that idiot trying to pull?! Doesn't he realize how dangerous this virus is? And how useless? If Umbrella wants a bunch of brain-dead brutes to go in and smash things up, why don't they simply send in their own 'Team Red' ? I've never seen a bigger bunch of morons in my life…_

I skip the next few entries until I get to one dated July 27th, 1998: _They've done it! Never underestimate the power of idiots in large numbers. T-virus has spilled in the Arklay Mountains and it will probably not be much longer before it spreads to the city. The zombie virus. Who's brilliant idea was **that**? A virus that re-animates the dead and turns some of the living into brainless monsters. Everyone oughta have a vial or two of that. The best invention since chocolate chip cookies. **Not**! RAIN has collected a sample and now Tem is urging everyone to work on a cure and anti-virus. Normally I don't like the assignments Tem gives us, but in this case I don't mind. I'm going to work on a cure for G-virus too. And a vaccine against it. Something tells me I'm going to need it…_

September 17th, 1998_: I just knew this was going to happen. I just learned today that Red Umbrella busted in to steal G-virus an apparently shot William several times. Security. Where **is** the security around there?! The way I understand, William injected himself with the G-virus while he was on Death's doorstep. What he hoped to accomplish by doing this, I do not know. But if his intention was to mutate into a big ugly monster with no brains and terrorize his family as well as anyone else unfortunate to cross his path, then I'd say it worked rather well. I heard someone killed him with heavy artillery. Annette, too, is dead. And probably Sherry. G-virus leaked into the sewers, and now thanks to it and the T-virus, the entire city is crawling is crawling with zombies and mutations. I did the smart thing and got the heck out of that city long before the viruses invaded it. All RAIN can do is watch in horror. We're a comfortable distance outside the city, and we **do** have a cure for the viruses now, but it is too small too help an entire city. Raccoon City is doomed. The only thing they can do now is nuke it._

Oct. 1, 1998_: Just as I predicted, Raccoon City is gone. Nuked. We at RAIN have silently declared war on Umbrella. Umbrella is a much larger and wealthier company than we are, but if we can expose their secrets, they're toast._

The next date is smudged out: _ Umbrella's so-called 'scientists' make me laugh. I've seen smarter people out picking fights in the allies behind taverns. And injecting themselves with their own concoctions…it's dolts like them who give scientists everywhere a bad name. Mad scientists…such a fitting title for these people. They certainly aren't **sane** scientists. Nobody in their right mind would inject themselves with a virus and call it 'progress' like a certain Ashford I know about. Alexia found an ancient ant virus and injected herself with it. In hopes that, what? One day she will mutate into the perfect ant-queen and control all of the ant colonies on earth? I really can't understand what her goal would be. To rule the world? She'd get bombed beyond the telling of it if she tried. Even a mutated ant-queen would have to bow to weapons of mass destruction. Her thought patterns just don't make sense. She's supposed to be a genius like me. She was a whiz-kid who graduated college at the same age I did, ten. People think she's so smart…let's not give her too much credit here. Wherever she is. Haven't heard from her in awhile…_

Footsteps in the hall jerk me to my senses. Someone is coming down the hall at a brisk pace.

Setting the diary down, I focus my attentions to the door.

The footsteps grow louder, but they're too light to be a supertyrant and too quick and well-coordinated to be a zombie.

Wrong direction to be one of my friends.

They stop in front of the door.

I tense up, ready to attack.

The knob spins, and a young man wearing a white labcoat steps into the room. He instantly holds both hands up into the air to show that he does not carry a weapon or wish to fight. Yet he doesn't really seem surprised to see me here.

" It's alright, I'm not your adversary." He says smoothly, relaxing his arms right after he says it, " I am Mark Cyrus." He flashes a grin, " Leader of Acid Rain. You've been reading about me, haven't you? " 

About a million words come to mind. But all I end up saying is " Yes."

I snatch his diary up and flash it before his eyes. I watch as his brown eyes run over it with almost total lack of interest. I had expected he might be offended by a total stranger busting in on his secret lab and rifling through his personal possessions, but to my surprise he seems to be oddly indifferent.

He is not old--around mid-twenties, I'd guess--with neatly cut dark brown hair and a very thin, kind of gangly build. 

He wears no ID card, but I do notice the small words _'Acid_ _Rain'_ neatly depicted into the fabric of the lab coat. It's kind of funny because there are little yellow droplets portrayed falling onto the letters so it looks as if the words _'Acid Rain' _are actually being eaten through by acid rain.

Acid Rain. Hmm. They're the ones who are supposed to have my mother and sister. But perhaps it would be wisest to find out what this guy wants first. I find it interesting that he's the leader of Acid Rain , yet in his diary he mentioned being with Rain. 

Mark shoots me a lopsided grin. " What? No introductions? Oh well. Don't bother. I already know all about you, Alan Wesker."

Now he has my full attention. I worry when strangers know my name.

" How did you…" I start, tossing the diary back down.

Mark cuts me short. " Know your name? That's easy. You're Albert Wesker's son. Had you read much more of my diary, you would have discovered I know a thing or two about the Wesker family. I also know about your virus and the powers it grants you."

" Then you must also know what I could do to you if you cross me the wrong way." I threaten.

I get a bad feeling about him. I don't really know why…his diary never indicated he was evil. A bit of a glory-hound, maybe. Not afraid to blow his own horn.

But I didn't get a chance to read more of his diary, and if he liked to hang around William and my father he was hanging around the wrong crowd.

I notice Mark flinch a bit after my threat. He knows.

Which brings in a new batch of questions, such as how he found out where I was and why he would approach me like that.

Had he caught me unawares, I might have knocked his head off his shoulders before I even had time to see who he was.

It is a problem I'm still working on. One of these days I'm afraid I'm going to end up accidentally killing some poor innocent person.

" No need to get testy," Mark assures, " I know what you can do. And I know why you're here. In fact, that's why I came in here with you, to tell you you wont find them here."

" You know about my mother and sister? " I ask, keeping an eye on the shifty scientist, " Where are they? "

Mark finally frowns. " I cannot say."

He has no time to react as I zip over, a deadly black blur. Milliseconds later and I have him pinned up by his throat against the wall with one hand.

" Skip the mindgames, Mark." I growl in a dangerously low voice, " I know you have them. Heard from a very reliable source that they are prisoners of Acid Rain. Here comes the million dollar question, and believe me, you have no lifelines left for this one: where are they? "

__


	13. A Little Light Shed onto the Mystery

**Chapter 13**

Mark's eyes widen with terror. He struggles futilely in my grasp.

" I don't know! " He chokes, " You think I'm stupid enough to mess around with you Weskers? I swear, I don't have them. And if…"

The door opens suddenly, cutting him off. 

Claire and the others pour in. 

Alexandra hangs back at a distance, wary.

I watch the shock register on their faces as they take in the scene before them.

" Who's…" Claire starts.

" Meet Mark Cyrus," I sneer, " leader of Acid Rain!"

" Do you know about the supertyrants? " Alexis demands, her tone less than friendly.

Mark's face is turning the color of a beet.

" Let me go and I'll tell you what you want to know! " The desperate man pleads.

Fine. I'll play. 

I release my hold on the scientist and let him drop to the floor.

He gets up slowly, rubbing his neck and not daring to take his eyes off of me.

" Ouch! You're your father's son alright. He likes to get right to the point too, I've noticed." He looks around and frowns, realizing he is trapped in here. My friends block the only exit, and Claire and Steve have their weapons drawn.

His eyes fall on the firearms. " Hey! Easy there. I know when I'm outdone."

Claire snorts. " Sorry, but I have this automatic distrust of mad scientists."

Mark looks as though he were just slapped. " Me? A mad scientist? Don't be ridiculous. William Birkin…_there_ was a mad scientist. An Acid Rainie such as myself would never dream of injecting himself with a virus. Even in the most extreme of circumstances."

" Nevermind that! " Alexis hisses, " What do you know about those monsters out there? "

Mark straightens and strives for a more dignified look.

I fantasize driving his face into the wall. He really thinks he's something else.

" The supertyrants? They're one of the main reasons we're staying underground in our labs right now. _Very _powerful creatures. Most of their body is covered in bulletproof armor. Originally, we were their creators. But before we could finish the final stages in the plans, the 'blueprints', so to speak, were plundered. We now know Umbrella was the culprit. It makes me so mad! The same thing happened to my Kiticore blueprints. Someone on my team was a double-agent and sold them to HCF…"

" Do the supertyrants have any weaknesses that you know of? " I prod.

Mark nods. " Definitely. Their soft spots are the eyes and mouth. Good places to stab or shoot, if you ever find yourself in a fight with one. And since they are reptile-based, they don't like the cold. It slows them down, disorients them. They have poor eyesight, but this is not really much of a handicap because they have a special organ that allows then to see body heat, much like a pit-viper. So if you're warmer than the buildings around you…and let's face it, you are, you're going to stick out like a nudist in Times Square. They can actually see your body heat _through _walls. Though I am not exactly sure how far this ability extends…"

" Anything else? " I pry.

Mark shakes his head. " Like I told you, my plans were stolen before they could be put to the test and experimented with. Umbrella could've added X-ray vision for all I know. They're after us, Umbrella is. They must want our technology and to cut us out of the picture permanently. That's why they sent those beasts here. Whoever stole those plans knows exactly where we're at."

" Your…technology? " Steve echoes, " What do you have? "

Smiling like a young god, Mark pulls a small gun out of his pocket. It is a shiny chrome color, but I don't detect anything unusual about it's shape or appearance. 

" Stand back! " Mark directs.

He pulls the tiny trigger. And a bright red beam flashes forth. In the blink of an eye, there is a neat hole the size of a basketball in the steel door and through the next wall in perfect alignment. A bit of white smoke lingers in the air with a burnt smell, but there is no debris. The material is simply gone.

" Whoa!" Steve words what I'm thinking, " You have a phaser! Er, ray gun! "

Mark slides the weapon back into his pocket. " Actually, we call it a radium gun. And, yes, it is sort of like the phasers off of _'Star Trek'_. It's main flaw is that it takes over an hour to recharge after each shot. And it's fuel is not such that is encountered often in the market. It takes just enough of the right ingredients to cause a small explosion--a type of nuclear fission. Kind of like the way an atom bomb would be if it were designed by fleas. We're definitely talking your smaller levels here, but it packs a big punch. Of course, we have better weapons than radium guns…back at our other location." He is a bit sheepish, " They kind of caught us off-guard this time. But if you have any other questions, feel free to ask. I'd do anything to get rid of those supertyrants and for a chance to make it out of here. My team feels the same way."

" Speaking of which, where exactly are the rest of your team? " Steve inquires, looking Mark over suspiciously.

" Not far. They're all watching this on video-camera. That's how we knew you were down here, in fact. They're standing by at my order. We knew that outside help would be advantageous, especially in this situation. Besides, even if I hadn't presented myself, you probably would've found us out sooner or later if you kept poking around. We er…we don't have very many locks around here. It wouldn't take a rocket-scientist to figure it out. Why delay the inevitable? "

" Exactly how many of you are there? " I pry.

" Including me? Thirteen." Mark replies smugly.

" You mean that's all that's left? " Alexis marvels.

Mark shakes his head. " No. There were never more than thirteen of us. We are not Umbrella, you know. We don't accept just any idiot off the streets. You have to have a pretty high IQ before you can join us. I don't mind saying that I'm the third smartest person in the world."

" Really? " Claire laughs, " Who to? " 

Mark makes a face. " One of them was Tem Rainfield, and the name of the other escapes me."

" Getting back on track," I interrupt, " You say you don't have my mother and sister. But when she came on over the radio, Mom said Acid Rain had them. Now what do you suppose would make her say that? Especially since she wasn't likely to know your company even existed."

I make a strong point. If his little division of Acid Rain is the only one in the whole world, and if it's so secret to boot, how would _anyone_ from America find out?

I feel my stare starting to strengthen, boring deep into Mark's eyes.

He blinks and looks away. " My only theory is that Umbrella must have them and deliberately let them believe they were being held captive by us. That way, when you came you would attack us and do them a huge favor…I used to believe we were well concealed down here. It appears I have made a miscalculation. Drat! We should've put more stock into emergency systems and weapons, I can see that now. Instead of leaving everything at our other location! I feel like such an Umbrella agent! "

To our surprised looks, he adds, " Umbrella agent is a synonym for _'stupid dolt' _around here. From their habit of constantly spilling dangerous viruses all over and turning themselves into zombies."

" Though it looks like they had a better security system than you." Claire points out.

" Yeah." I agree, loving the chance to get Mark's goat, " A child could get around in this place. I would expect more from geniuses."

A sour expression grips Mark's face. " We never anticipated the need for extensive security! I never imagined we'd be discovered, and I certainly couldn't have foreseen this…this mess! "

" Like the virus spill? " I press.

Mark nods. " Yes….quite unfortunate. Not our doing, by the way. I'm afraid Sambabwia's current crisis is a direct result of the viral wars between Umbrella and HCF. We were originally here first, but for some strange reason both of those companies moved into town at the same time not long after us, completely oblivious to our existence. Of course, we did not enlighten them, but it did give us a chance to study their true nature. But all of this happened so sudden…Umbrella and HCF are like two kids playing with matches. They're dabbling in things they can't understand let alone fathom the multitude of grim consequences. All in the name of science. Those panny-anny operators don't even comprehend the nature of true science. Not like we do."

" Hold on a sec," Steve says, " you mean HCF has a base near here? "

" Of course." Mark nods, " It's just south of here, on the other side of a little stream about a mile or so away." Having answered that, he turns to me, " If you really want to find your folks, try Umbrella's base. It's only about a mile or so North of here beyond the bramble fence. There's a pathway you must take to get to the mansion. If you want answers, go there. That's all I can tell you."

An earsplitting roar from above nearly shatters my eardrums. Instantly, my head whips towards the ceiling.

Have the supertyrants found the hidden hatch? 

My mind floods with the image of supertyrants crashing in on us and tearing us to shreds before smashing our bodies to pulpy pancakes between their big ugly toes.

I have definitely had cheerier thoughts.

I turn back to Mark. " You sure you don't have my family? Because if I find out differently…"

" I really don't! " Mark insists, " You can even tour my lab if you want. Of course, that would take time, and I can't guarantee you your family would still be in one piece by the time you reached them. As I understand, only you and your father have T-2 virus."

He does have a point. I may not like him, but I think it is likely he is telling the truth about this one.

And we don't exactly have all the time in the world.

" North then? "

Mark nods. " That's where I would look if I were you."

I head back out the door And start for the secret trapdoor. The others follow behind nervously. Little Alexandra stays close to Alexis.

" So, you're just going to take his word? " Claire asks, a note of suspicion in her tone.

I don't even turn around. " What choice do I have? He's right--I don't have time to search his lab. And the way he acted…I don't believe he has them. It doesn't feel right."

" I sure hope you're right." Steve says wearily.

We reach the lounge and start up the stairs to the native hut.

" Um…has it occurred to anyone else that the supertyrants may still be out there? " Alexis cautions.

Yeah. It _has_ occurred to me.

But I don't hear them close by anymore--just off in the distance. The coast should be clear for now.

" That's a chance we're just going to have to take." I admit, " But they don't run very fast. And if there's an emergency, I could probably hold one off. For a minute."

" Oh, well that's nice to know! " Steve chides, " Come on! You have a super-virus. I don't want to meet the monster that can kick _your_ butt."

I stop dead in my tracks. We've reached the hatch.

Slowly, I turn to my comrades. " I'd better go first and make sure it's clear."

Claire nods. " You wont find _me_ arguing."

" Be careful! " Alexis adds.

Oh, I have every intention of being careful.

I undo the latch. And step out into the hut. 


	14. Attack of the Ashfords!

**Chapter 14**

The first thing that hits me is the overpowering stench of the supertyrants. They've been close.

_Very_ close.

But the hatch was hidden by a rug which, luckily, they didn't decide to look under. 

Leaving the hatch open, I walk around the whole hut, senses on full. I hear the moaning and growling of zombies and other nasties outside stumbling around in their search for prey, but nothing that sounds like a supertyrant.

I am suddenly very worried. Not hearing them means I don't know where they're at. 

And I don't like not knowing where they're at. It causes such a feeling of impending doom.

I double back to the hatch.

" It's alright," I call softly, not wanting to attract unwanted company, " It's safe."

One by one they file out; glancing around like nervous rabbits leaving a burrow. All have their weapons drawn, save Alexandra.

I wonder how she managed to survive alone in this godforsaken place for any amount of time. And where are her parents? Dead? That's a possibility. Hopefully one she wont have to face up to. It must suck being an orphan.

Again I find my eyes drawn to her weird bracelets. What an odd fashion statement. I guess it must be true what they say about beauty being in the eye of the beholder.

" Okay," I tell everyone, " Stay right with me. And I'm sure I don't need to tell you to stay alert."

My friends are silent as we head out of the hut and back onto the main dirt road.

Seeing no zombies or other creatures, we head out north. Towards the bramble fence.

It doesn't take long to reach the brambles, and the torchlight illuminates a niche in the structure.

The gate.

A few zombies lye in the path, feigning dead. In just a few seconds they wont be feigning.

" Zombie." I state rather bluntly.

Alexis hops in front of me, uzi raised. " I'll take care of _them_! "

She fires several rounds into the faker zombies. Gushing red wounds appear in their flesh, and they give in with sad death moans.

Then again, zombies never really sound anything _but_ sad. Which stands to reason. I suppose I'd be sad too, if I were a zombie.

" Gotcha! " Alexis chirps.

Okay. This is a side to her I've never seen before, but I like it.

The girl's got an edge!

" Whoa, way to go Alexis! " Steve laughs, " You shot those ground-crawling zombies to death all by yourself, and with an uzi! "

Alexis beams, " What, you think the fight should have been more fair? "

Steve grins. " Well, I wouldn'tve minded seeing a mudfight."

Claire hits him lightly over the head with the barrel of her shotgun. " Keep that up, Mister, and you're going to be in a mudfight alright."

" Really? Will you wear a bikini? "

Claire thumps him on the head good-naturedly. " In your dreams! "

" Actually, in my dreams you're not wearing…"

" Um, Steve? " Alexis interrupts, pointing to Alexandra.

Steve blushes. " Oh. Sorry."

I shake my head. What is it about dangerous places that brings out the loony in people?

I step over the permanently disabled zombies and grab the gate. It swings open easily.

Ahead lays a narrow stone pathway lined on either side by dense flower bushes.

The gardens.

The place is alive with the sounds of insects and a sweet odor perfumes the air.

To the average human eyes it would be very dark.

Fortunately, I don't have the average human eyes.

I freeze for just a moment. A shift in the wind. A cracking noise.

Of course, it could just be a zombie or other mutant animal ambling about…

" So, lead the way, O' Leading One." Steve prods, " We might even run into the others. That'd be nice."

" Yeah, and so would a giant can of 'OFF'! The bugs are going to eat me alive! " Alexis complains.

No time to get cold feet now. I start forward.

" Heh, you seemed awfully willing to let Alan lead." I hear Claire say in a quiet voice, " I'm surprised, Steve. I would've thought you would've wanted to lead the pack."

" Hey, two reasons for my decision. One, any big monsters attack they're going to get Superboy up there first, and Two, I get to make time in the back with all the ladies! "

" I heard that! " I whip around to see Steve swing an arm around the necks of both Claire and Alexis, grinning like an idiot.

Alexis shoves his arm away quickly with an indignant snort. " This is one lady you won't be making time with! "

Steve only laughs. " Geesh, it is _so_ easy to get you aristocrats all wound up! "

" Um, if we keep talking, the zombies and monsters are going to find us." Alexandra points out.

That silences them.

Out of the mouths of babes, they say.

I give Alexandra an approving nod and turn back into the lead.

There are lots of creatures making quite a racket all around. Thankfully, none is close enough to worry about so far.

The path opens up into a circle surrounding an elegant water fountain. The scent of blood flows from it in waves. I see the red stain in the darkened water as it sprays up into the night air.

" Is there water somewhere? " Alexis asks, " I hear it, but I don't see it."

" Yes," I agree, " straight ahead. There's a fountain. Just like Mark said. That means there should also be another path connecting to the Umbrella facility just beyond it. But there's so many trees and plants I can't see it yet."

The trees and bushes here are unusually high and leafy for this part of Africa. We're in the plains, but these look like they came straight out of the jungle. What's more, they hinder my view. So I can't actually _see_ the building, but I sense we are close by.

Once I've checked to make sure the coast is clear, I start down the left-hand path around the fountain.

That's when Alexis begins to hum.

It is not a tune I am familiar with, but her voice carries a nervous edge.

" Alexis! Not _that_ song! " Steve complains, " Ashfords! I can see humming if you're nervous, but don't you know anything else? Anything that _won't_ remind me of that horrible evening I spent with your mother? "

Now I _definitely _hear leaves rustling. And it's _not_ the wind.

I tense up, searching for the source of the sound.

Alexis is oblivious. " Sorry. I just had that song stuck in my head. Do you have a problem with 'One Tin Soldier' ? "

Suddenly, " You sing that song wrong anyway." An all-too-familiar voice says.

Alexia jumps from the bushes, from a small path _in_ the bushes I'd somehow overlooked.

She lands not more than ten feet in front of me, her bloodred lips drawn up into an evil smirk.

She looks just the same as I remember her: beautiful and deadly. Tonight she is wearing a fanciful red gown and her blonde hair glints silver in the moonlight. In fact, it startles me just how much she resembles Alexis.

However, Alexis has a noticeable widow's peak on her forehead and Alexia does not.

I stand my ground, trying to appear more confident in my abilities than I really am. I will not show her the satisfaction of my fear.

Besides, this chick has really rubbed me the wrong way.

" Alexia! " Steve and Claire gasp in unison.

Alexia chuckles. " Boy, don't we have a smart bunch here tonight? "

" Cut to the chase," I growl, ready to attack at the faintest provocation, " what do you want? "

Alexia cocks her head as if deciding who to attack first.

" You're your father's son alright. And I see you seem to be doing very well despite our last encounter."

For just a cold second, we lock eyes.

Then she shifts her gaze to the others.

" You have made it this far, and I know what you seek. But it's too bad because your little rescue party is going to fail. You have courage, I'll give you that. But do you know the reason why you're not going to live past this night? "

" No, but I have a feeling you're going to tell us." I cross my arms and size her up, wondering how special she'd feel with a bloody nose.

Of course, I'll kill her if I get half the chance. And I will not feel a twinge of remorse. 

If Chris could do it, so can I.

" You're going to die because you simply do not have the power to stop me. I have a lot in my favor, this night."

" Yeah? Well…we have Little Alexia! "

_What?!_

Steve's words are so surprising that just for a split second I turn to see him give a startled Alexis a slight shove forward.

Now Alexia does laugh. It is a cold, evil sound.

" You think I fear my own daughter? By the way, I couldn't help but to notice that you've been doing rather well on your own, Alexis."

" No thanks to you! " Alexis snorts, " You went off and totally left me behind! "

But her words do not hide her true emotions. 

Alexis is scared. Scared of her own mother.

Mother and daughter lock eyes, and the tension is so thick I could cut it with a knife.

Claire leans into Steve a bit, not daring to lift her firearm.

I keep my eyes trained on Alexia, ready for her next move.

" You know," Alexia purrs, her words directed at Alexis, " It's not too late for you, you know. You may act nice now, but we both know that Ashford blood runs pure in your veins. Join me! The Ashford family can be even more powerful, even more glorious. Nothing can stand in our way. Because whether you want to believe it or not, Daughter dear, I am going to win. And once all your friends are dead, where will you go? Who will you turn to? I'm giving you a chance to be on the winning team. I promise you you'll have a brighter future with us, your true family--your flesh and blood. What have you to say? "

Alexis backs into Steve and Claire, a certain fire of defiance in her eyes. " Never! I'd sooner sniff a zombie's underarm! "

" That's telling her! " Claire cheers, " You go, girl! "

Alexia's smile vanishes and is replaced by an angry frown.

" Being around these inferior ponces has made you weak! Just remember that I gave you a chance! "

Something occurs to me then…Alexandra's gone. She must've slipped away while we were preoccupied with Alexia.

But where did she go? And why did she leave?

Alexia stands her ground, sizing the situation up. I will wait for the right moment, once she's not paying as much attention to me as she should.

No such luck.

Now her eyes bear into me like lasers. " And you, I have something very special in mind for you."

I am cocky. " Thanks, but I'm kind of busy tonight. I'm afraid you're going to have to take a rain-check."

" You dare to mock me?! " Alexia rages.

I shrug. " Why not? What are you going to do, mutate into a giant bug and gross-me-out-to-death? "

I have pushed the right buttons.

By making her mad at _me_, she will focus more on me and my friends can escape. At least, that's the plan.

" I've had about enough of this! Alfred! Ash! "

Alfred and Ash leap out of hiding from opposite directions and collide with each other.

A misfired bullet whizzes from Alfred's sniper rifle and barely misses Alexia's face.

" Hey! Watch it! " Ash grumbles as he and Alfred pull away, both rubbing their faces.

I laugh along with my friends.

And they're supposed to be intimidating?

But it gives me the break I need.

None too pleased and far from amused, Alexia takes her eyes off me. " Will you two quit clowning around and…"

I lunge--lightning fast--and ram into Alexia fist-first, sending her flying into the male Ashfords and effectively bowling them over.

Even as they mutter angry curses, I pounce again, wrapping my hands around Alexia's throat.

" Alan! Watch out for…" Claire's warning comes too late as Alexia's elbow comes up and jams me in the ribs. Hard.

I suddenly feel very hot every place I am touching her body. My hands feel like they're twined around hot coal!

I have no choice but to release her, barely stifling a cry.

She uses the opportunity to buck backwards and knock me over. Then she whirls around like a dervish, a bit of fire at the end of one of her hands.

" Oh, you're going to be sorry for that, Alan! " She throws the fire.

I roll to the side and spring back to my feet.

The fireball hit the ground and there is much shouting and yelling as Alfred and Ash dive for Claire and Steve.

But it is background, and I must focus on the big game.

Smiling wickedly, the Ashford queen flicks her wrist, flinging droplets of blood straight at me.

Using my superspeed, I manage to parry and avoid her bodily fluids before they burst into flame like gasoline ignited.

Weird. I'm not sure what aspect of the T-Veronica virus causes her blood to be like that. And right now, I don't really care.

Now I can see the frustration taking it's toll on her. Obviously, she despises the very thought of a fair fight.

I can't resist. " Not so easy now, is it? The odds have evened out a bit, haven't they? "

Alexia sneers. " I'll be sure to put that in your obituary! "

She lunges. But is as if she is in slow motion.

I step aside with ease and she ends up striking Alfred in the rear.

" Geesh, you're losing it, Alexia. My grandmother could've avoided that one."

" Yeeeoooow! " Alfred hollers, dropping his sniper rifle.

It is immediately seized by Alexis.

Ash is engaged in a brawl with Steve. Hard to tell who's winning, but Steve has that super-fast healing thing going on for him. I hope he tears Ash limb from limb.

Claire takes advantage of Alfred's distraction to take aim with her gun.

Alexia has her back turned to me.

If I am going to make another attack, now would be a good time.

I take a deep breath. Okay. Take on Alexia…I can do this. It's what Dad _trained _me to do for years. One of his key lessons was _'never fight fair' _. Normally I disagree with this advice, but for Alexia I'm going to make an exception.

I'll teach her never to turn her back on a Wesker!

I charge.

An instant before I reach her, Alexia turns around.

She catches my arm before I can strike a blow, and she is not gentle about it. " I'm getting sick of you." She sneers, her expression positively murderous.

" Feelings mutual." I reply, swiping my free hand at her face while at the same time kicking up into a place no polite gentleman would ever hit a lady.

Just as I expect, she clutches my other hand, but she is slow to react to my foot and I catch her by surprise. Now I use the distraction to thrust my arms down in a swift half-circle that throws her to the ground.

That's when her hands start burning.

Yelping a cry of pain, I attempt to free myself. 

No such luck, she is holding on too tightly!

Making the most of my predicament, Alexia does not waste the opportunity to pull me to the ground with her. I land by her side on the stony walk. The fall didn't hurt me, but my wrists are burning!

" Still having fun? " Alexia smirks as she digs her long fingernails deep into the flesh of my wrists. At the same time, her hands catch on fire.

The pain is unbearable. If I don't do something quick, she's going to burn me alive!

But her grip is strong. Too strong. However…

Summoning all my reserves of strength and speed, I twist to the side and kick her in the middle with both feet as hard as I can.

Bingo.

Alexia makes a strange pain-cry and goes flying--her sharp nails dragging along my wrists and hands in a blaze of heat and agony.

She sails into the thick bushes while muttering something inaudible in the sounds of the battle.

I spring to my feet and quickly examine the five long nail marks biting deep into each charred wrist in a wash of crimson. Parts of my gloves are burnt and torn in the places where she touched them, but they did save my hands from taking part of the punishment of her claws. Before my eyes the cuts start to close and the blood flow stops. In minutes, I know, I will be fine.

However, my concern right now is not for myself but for my friends.

Alfred and Alexis are in a game of tug-of-war with Alfred's sniper rifle, but Ash has Claire pinned to the ground!

That little weasel! Well, we'll just see about that.

I zip over and grab Ash by the back collar of his preppy blue uniform and simply fling Alexia's mean-spirited son over my shoulder like so much garbage.

There is a loud splash as he hits the water, and a thud as some part of his body strikes the stone in the fountain--hopefully his head.

I reach down and snatch Claire's hand, helping her up.

" Where's Steve?! " She yelps, whipping her head around.

" Steve? " That's a good question. I don't see him anywhere, but it's not like I have time to do much of an in-depth search at the moment--Alexia is getting out of the bushes!

" You'll die for that! "

" Promises, promises." I quip.

What made me say that? Because now she is throwing a fireball at me.

" Dodge! " I yell to Claire grabbing her to the side with me.

The fireball sails past us harmlessly and hits the marble angel figurine in the center of the water fountain.

" Five years hasn't helped your aim! " I throw defiantly, " Your fire-throwing skills _still_ aren't worth a hill of beans! "

Claire's eyes widen in surprise. " What are you trying to do, get us killed? "

" She's trying to kill us anyway! " I point out.

" Alexis, just give me the sodding gun! " Alfred demands angrily while Alexis continues to struggle with him.

" And let you shoot all my friends? I'd rather not."

I almost laugh. Alexis continues to surprise me. And she has proved to be very loyal.

Alexia surges towards them.

I have not yet taken my first step to intercept when something hard and wet hits my back and knocks me off balance.

No! I have to help!

I back up and fling my assailant off, but it has cost me time.

I can only watch as Alexia grabs Alfred's sniper rifle, and, in a display of crude power, flings it as well as the Alexis attached to it up into the air and several hundred feet into the dense brambles beyond the tall shrubs. 

Alexis screams as she falls into those brambles and sinks beyond sight. Even in the best of light, I cannot see _through_ opaque structures--I hope she is alright.

" Fool! " Alexia turns on her own brother and strikes him in the face with the back of her hand, sending him stumbling backwards. " Alexis is not our target! You waste my time."

" S…sorry, Alexia. I did not mean to…" 

A splashing to my right diverts my attention to the water fountain where a waterlogged Ash is just starting to pull himself out. " Get him, Mother! "

Yipes!

I turn to see Alexia catch ablaze, her whole body engulfed in a fiery inferno. Her bloodred eyes lock onto me in a hateful glare and I can tell right now playtime is over.

She starts towards me, a living torch. The flames lick off her body, yet it does not consume her.

Okay. Now the odds have definitely shifted to her favor. If this were a wrestling match, I would not bet on me.

" Um, Claire? You wouldn't happen to have a firehose handy, would you? 'Cause I'm guessing that having her grab you looking like that is probably not a very good idea."

" I'm thinking we get the hell out of here! " Claire spews, voice thick with terror and excitement.

Alexia holds a hand out and fire leaps from it like a flamethrower in a brilliant orange and yellow plume that misses me by inches.

" I'm thinking that's a good idea." I agree.

There's no time to look for Steve, Alexis, or Alexandra, and we're not going to be any help to them dead.

" Hey! " Claire yelps as I scoop her up into my arms like a newborn baby.

" We'll go faster this way." I explain as I dart out for the alleged mansion at full speed.

" Coward! Face me! " Alexia booms from behind me.

I have no intention whatsoever of obeying that little piece of insane advice.

" Sorry honey, but I think I'll wait until you've had a chance to cool down." I throw over my shoulder.

Kind of a lame comeback, I know. But my brain simply has too much to process right now. Like where I'm going and what I'm going to do if I encounter a pair of supertyrants in this mad dash for safety.

The facility looms ahead, and I hold my fist forward, hugging Claire tight to my body. I'm busting through the wooden doors before I even have time to fully process the images I'm seeing. Main lobby. Reception room. Hall. 

I pass through the rooms in a blur of speed, dodging zombies and infected animals, and sometimes mowing right over them like the roadrunner in Looney Tunes.

" Alan, what are you…"

I find some stairs leading upwards and simply leap straight to the top without even bothering to go up them.

So Claire's last word ends up sounding like: " doooooiiiiinngg?!?! "

I trample over four of five zombies in the adjoining hall, squishing them beneath my boots like mush. I reach a personal bedroom and leap up to lash out with my foot at a zombie vacating the premises.

" Yiiiii! " Claire exclaims as I kick the zombie down and smash it's face beneath my boot-heel. 

Here, finally, I stop and set her down. 


	15. A Cure For TVeronica Virus?

Claire sits down on the small bed and rubs a hand to her cheek, which I notice has a big bruise. " Thanks."

I sit next to her. " Hey, no problem. I just hope the others made it okay. I didn't exactly have time to look for them with those two Ashford sicko-psychos on the loose and Alexia pulling a Charlie Mcgee impersonation."

Claire makes a face. " How does she _do_ that? "

I shake my head. " My father totally skipped over the whole part about her being able to turn into Lady Torch. It's just a good thing she doesn't run very fast."

Claire gives an exhausted sigh before putting her face in her hands and leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. " Steve should be okay. He has super-fast healing and I'm sure he wouldn't stick around if he didn't have good reason to. Alexis is another Ashford, and Alexia _did_ say she wasn't a target. But Alexandra…she's just a little girl…" She trails off, saddened.

I keep an ear out for danger while replying, " True, but I'm not even sure the Ashfords saw her at all. Seems to me she came up missing just before Alexia attacked."

Claire looks at me, puzzled. " But why would she just go off like that? "

I shrug. " Beats me. I have no clue where she's at or why she took off. But I hope she's safe, wherever she's at."

Claire casts her eyes downwards. " I hope Chris and the others are okay." She says, more than just a tinge of worry in her voice.

I wish I could find something positive and uplifting to say, but my mind draws a blank. Instead I just sit, listening.

The only sounds that reach my ears are those of zombies and other mutants making their way through rooms, bumping into things, and making wet slurping sounds I don't even want to think about.

" I lost my gun." Claire moans, " Ash managed to tear it away from me somehow. Now I don't have a weapon."

I reach a hand under her chin and tilt her face up until we are eye-level.

" Don't worry. I'll protect you." I say soothingly.

But Claire seems surprised.

I blink. " Is something wrong? " I say, quickly removing my hand.

" Your eyes…they're….they're not slitted anymore! And they're not red and yellow, either! "

What?!

I frown processing this. " What do you mean? What color are they? "

Claire peers into my eyes and squints, and I feel my anxiety rising.

" They're blue-green. Just like when we first met. They look completely normal…wait! Now they're changing back! "

I look around for a mirror, shiny piece of metal, _anything_ I could use to see my reflection in. But whoever's personal room we're in, they didn't like keeping mirrors or reflective surfaces around.

Then I spot the door to the bathroom. Bingo. A number-one place to look for mirrors.

I leap off the bedspread and almost zip in through the slightly ajar door to the bathroom.

Blood is everywhere and I have to hold my breath at the overpowering stench of death and decay.

The mirror over the sink is indeed in place. Unfortunate that it is smashed to itty bitty shards, but I can still make out my eye color--red and yellow. The pupils are still slitted, too.

I hurry out of the bathroom and quickly slam the door to cut down on smell pollution.

Claire is standing too, now.

" They _did _look normal. For about five seconds." She adds before turning to the owner's nightstand. She opens the door and begins rifling through it. Looking for a gun, no doubt.

So my eyes changed back to normal briefly. What does it mean? Dad never spoke of being able to change eye color. Maybe I have some ability I don't even know about yet.

Something cold touches my left ankle, and I look down. Nothing. Nothing is there…it must just have been my imagination.

Then I remember…the magnum! The one Mauler shot me with--there should still be five shells left in it! A perfect weapon for Claire. Why didn't I think of it sooner?

" Claire." She turns my way.

I pull the magnum from the hidden holster on my left boot and hand it to her. " Here. I almost forgot I had this."

Her excited eyes flicker first over the magnum, then over me. She snatches it and puts it in her own weapons holster. " Thanks."

" There's five shots left in it." I clarify, " I think you could use it more than me."

Claire nods, smiling. " Okay. Now e have to find the rest of the team, find your mother and sister, and find a way out of here. All so you and Alexis can be back in time for the weekend."

Her words catch me off-guard. " Wha..? "

Claire laughs and shakes her head, her chestnut ponytail swaying left and right. " Oh, you might as well admit it! You have feelings for Alexis. And she has feelings for you. I've seen the way you two have been looking at each other. And I think you'd make a perfect couple. As soon as our lives are done being in danger, go for the gold! Ask her out. I know she'd accept."

I feel color starting to flush in my cheeks.

I do care for Alexis, but is it really that obvious?

I can't remember being this embarrassed since the day in the third grade cafeteria when a kid shoved a messy lump of vanilla pudding down my pants. I wasn't normally the type to be bullied, but in that case I'd deserved it. I'd purposely ruined his lunch by pouring my chocolate milk all over his burger, fries, even carrot-sticks. The funny thing is now I can't even remember why I did that. But I do remember I could be quite onry in school--especially when it came to authority figures. My parents had to attend more then one parent/teacher/principal conference over me.

I turn away, causing Claire to giggle like a schoolgirl. " You oughta see yourself right now! Come on, you're, what, twenty-three now? It's okay to have a date. Heck, some people marry younger than you! "

I don't turn around.

" I know, I know." I admit, " My mom was only nineteen when I was born and my dad almost twenty-one." 

I hear more rifling in the drawers and know Claire must be searching them again.

A zombie dog howls from a few rooms off. Seconds later, it is joined by several packmates, their mournful howling rising to a crescendo and echoing off the walls of the mansion.

Disturbing. They don't usually howl like that unless they've made a kill. Not with that intensity.

" What I'm trying to figure out," Claire goes on, making conversation, " Is how you turned out so well with Wesker raising you. I would've thought you'd be more…"

" Evil? " I finish.

Claire looks up from her drawer and I meet her gaze.

There is a bit of an awkward silence.

I grin wickedly, just for show. When it suits me, I can very well mimic my father's murderous expressions and gestures. I've seen them out to use far too many times.

I watch Claire's eyes, study her expression. For just a moment there is a flicker of fleeting fear. But only for a moment.

" Well…yeah. Now that you mention it, evil. Or bad at the very least."

I snicker quietly, another trait I have picked up from Dad.

" I have a mother too, you know, and I really wouldn't call her evil. I guess…I don't know…I guess I just don't have the drive to be cruel. Intentions: they make all the difference in the world. They help to define who we are."

Claire heaves a gentle sigh of relief. " You know, you do a very good impersonation of your dad. Even down to that evil laugh--only you sound better."

I am flattered. " Thanks! It comes in handy to have that effect on people sometimes."

She turns her attentions back to the middle drawer and I watch as she pulls a fresh-looking packet of papers up. From this particular angle I can't read the print, but Claire's eyes start to widen and her jaw starts to drop.

" Wow. Is it _that_ good? " I ask, only half joking. I reach her side and peer over her shoulder.

" Rain! " Claire says, suddenly excited, " They have a cure! Several, in fact." She jabs a finger to some underlined type near the upper-middle of the text, " T-virus, G-virus, Progenitor virus….even T-Veronica virus! They _all _have cures! "

" But that's not all," I add, skimming the text. I trace my finger along a particularly interesting passage. " there are also immunity shots you can get that will make you unsusceptible to any of the above named viruses."

Claire looks up from the papers, eyes sparkling. " Are you thinking what I'm thinking? "

" The cure! " I blurt, following Claire's train of thought, " If we can get our hands on the cure for the T-Veronica virus and then somehow shoot Alexia up with it…." 

" Pow! No more Pele', no more super-strength, and best of all, no more Alexia! " Claire finishes.

It is my turn to grin now. If we can get our hands on that cure, Alexia is finished! Without her precious virus to enhance her, she's nothing. Alfred would be more dangerous.

Of course, we do not know where the vaccine is. That is a bit of rain on our picnic.

" What's it say about the location of the cure? " I ask, already reading again.

Claire searches with me, and within moments points to a few lines on the second paper in the packet. " The cure to T-Veronica virus, also known as Solution LT922, was reported missing from R.A.I.N. labs on September 27, 2003. The suspected thieves are Acid Rain, who's whereabouts are unknown."

" That's because they're hereabouts." I mutter. Then it dawns on me. " Mark! " I snap my fingers, causing Claire to jump, " I was reading in his journal--Mark is with Rain. Or he was at one point, anyway. I think he may be the culprit."

Claire nods and chews her lower lip thoughtfully. " You're right." She looks back to the papers. " Hey! Did you know that R.A.I.N. stands for Rational Advancements In Nature? " 

I shake my head. " No, but they seem like the good guys here."

Claire turns another paper and frowns. " I can't make any of this out. It looks like higher forms of calculus."

" Let me see." I take the paper and find myself staring at weird little symbols mixed with numbers, letters, abbreviations, and formulas. It all looks Greek to me. She's right. I can't make it out either. " Rocketscience." I mumble, handing the papers back to her, " Sorry, but my education doesn't go that high."

" The rest of the pages all look like this," Claire grouses, " I can't make any sense out of it! "

" few people can." I comment, listening to the scratching of claws far off in another room.

But I am already contemplating paying Mark another visit, oh yes. If he has that cure, I could sure put it to good use.

" So let me get this straight," Claire starts, setting the papers on the bed and sitting along next to them, " scenario time. R.A.I.N. are the good scientists, Acid rain, Umbrella, and HCF are all bad scientists. That would explain why they don't seem to get along too well. Okay, so Rain comes up with cures and vaccines to all these viruses, including T-Veronica. Acid Rain, for one reason or another, steals the T-Veronica cure. Maybe they planned on nailing Alexia, maybe not. But let's suppose Alexia somehow found out about this and found out they were here in Sambabwia. It would stand to reason that she wouldn't want that cure around and she probably wants to do away with the footnotes and recipe so that other people don't go around making more…"

" And if Acid Rain has the cure," I interrupt, " it would also explain why Alexia is attacking them! Mark said it was for their technology and to cut them out of the competition, but I think that cure is the biggest reason. And if it's true that Umbrella is trying to lure me into attacking Acid Rain by blaming them for my family's capture…they must want the cure too! "

" Duh, Alan Alexia owns Umbrella. Of course they have the same goals."

" Right, right." I agree, too excited to care. Things are finally starting to clear up! " So the Umbrella team wants me here to attack Acid Rain. Alexia wants me to attack them. Whatever. There's a general attacking Acid Rain theme. And HCF…" 

Something else clicks in my mind. Is it possible that HCF could not only know about the cure, but also be trying to attain it? If so, it would further explain why they would send my father here. Which leaves me without a doubt in the world that my dad _is_ here in Sambabwia, and this was indeed the village he had been talking about. Of course, a part of me knew it all along.

Worse, my friends are out there with him, Alexia, and supertyrants in addition to the usual nasties. I would have a hard time thinking of a more dangerous situation. And who knows where my mother and sister are? Umbrella probably allowed them to think they were making a secret transmission for help. Which means someone from Umbrella knew exactly where I was and purposely let the information slip to set the trap.

Was it Alexia? Maybe.

I have to find everyone and leave this area as soon as possible. It's not safe _anywhere_ around here!

" HCF? What about HCF? " Claire presses

Uh-oh. I can't let her know the truth _now_! Then we'll never get around to searching. Of course, she'll probably find out sooner or later…

" Nothing." I murmur, shaking my head, " I don't know what I was thinking." 

Better later than sooner.

Claire studies me suspiciously.

I try not to appear nervous. Does she suspect?

" Nothing? Are you sure? HCF is Wesker's company…Ohmigod! Mark did say something about HCF being involved…"

" Their mansion exploded," I point out, " If they were involved, it's game over for them." My answer seems to satisfy her.

She sighs. " You're right. Though there may still be a few running around."

I have to laugh. " In this mess? With all the Ashfords and those supertyrants running around? They wouldn't get very far."

Claire shakes her head, saddened. " Probably not. We'd better hurry up and find everyone so we can get the heck out of here."

_With what? _I almost say. Our jet has been rendered useless. There's a giant grassfire going on not awfully far away that may shift direction and burn this village to the ground. And I saw no aircraft of any type on the way in.

Of course, that is just more bad news, and we've had enough of that lately. Might as well try and keep morale from falling past the hopeless level.

" Well," I decree after a moment of silence has slipped by, " I guess we'd better start by heading back to the Acid Rain base for the cure. But we can check this place out while we're on our way."

Claire nods. " Good idea, Captain Wesker! "

" Wha…?" Claire's laugh cuts me off, " The look on your face just now was priceless! "

I cock an eyebrow at Claire in a playful mock-dangerous manner. " We really should get started." I say, letting her catch the tinge of anxiety in my tone. 

People's lives are at risk here, and I can't imagine anything worse than being stranded here in the middle of nowhere with all of our powerful enemies.

Claire stops laughing, but her smile partially remains. She moves over for the door and I follow, keeping eye-contact the whole time.

She is nervous. For her life, for her friends' and family's lives…it shows in her actions and the way she talks. I really can't blame her. This must just be her way of dealing. I can think of worse ways.

" You know, I was only half-joking." Claire supplies once we open the door and step out into a hall where the bodies of several zombies lay smashed and bleeding into the carpet, " Since Steve, Alexis, and I have been around you, you've kind of become our unofficial leader. Haven't you noticed that you've been the one making most of the decisions lately? "

I feel an uncomfortable lump swell in my throat. She's right. I _have_ kind of taken over the pack, so to speak.

" Well, I didn't see anyone else volunteering. " I remark.

There is a thump up several doors ahead, and the floor shakes slightly.

Nope, I am not liking the feel of _that_.

The T-virus stench is overpowering now, but I think I detect a trace of G-virus as well.

Claire is startled, and with good reason.

" Alan," She half-whispers, not daring to take her eyes off the door at the end of the hall, " didn't we just come through that door when we first came up here? Didn't you leave it open? "

" I didn't close it." I confess, feeling a tad worried myself. I can't fight what I can't see. What if it's a supertyrant? Really not looking forward to another one of those without a nice rocket-launcher handy. 

Yet I don't hear any footsteps or breathing.

" If we didn't close it, then who did? " Claire turns to me, fear written all over her face, " Do you think it's a supertyrant? "

I shake my head. " I'm not sure. I didn't hear any breathing or footsteps. But I'd rather not find out if it's okay with you."

Claire nods immediately. " Let's go this way." She leads the way down the opposite end of the hall, and I follow; senses on full, scanning for danger.

She stops at a door almost to the end with a nice flaming sword etched beautifully into the wooden framework

" There are bandersnatches in there." I warn even as she reaches for the knob. I hear them in there, lumbering about.

Her hand freezes over the knob. " Bandersnatchs? Oh! You mean big-arms! I call 'em like I see them. They're those big yellow one-armed things back at Rockfort."

I nod. " None other."

Claire shakes her head, frowning. " Maybe we'd better not go in then."

Four different breaths sound from beyond the door, maybe five at the most. I feel my adrenaline start pumping. 

Great! Bandersnatches I can handle. I'm tired of losing fights and running away. I think I will go in there and turn them all into icky brown sludge. That might be fun.

" Come on." Claire tugs my arm, but I pull away.

" No! You want this door? You've _got_ this door! "

I grab the knob and twist until I break it.

A fiery ambition wells up inside of me. Those bandersnatches won't know what hit them!

" But the big-arms...I mean, bandersnatches…" 

Claire's voice seems to come from some far off place.

I shove the door open.

Claire starts to say something, but the roar of several enraged bandersnatches cuts her off.

" Just don't get in the way! " I warn as I zip into the room and dodge the first oversized hand. My eyes do a quick sweep of the room. 

Six! I have underestimated the number. But it doesn't really matter, because they are all going to die!

The bandersnatches amble slightly closer, sizing me up. Their useless left arms hang shriveled and tiny from their torso. Their wilted-banana skin oozes an unpleasant goo. They remind me of hunters in some ways, only uglier if that's possible. Bloated furless ape-things.

Yuck. And double yuck.

I let them form a sort of circle around me, guessing their strategy.

One…two…three! I leap high and straight into the monster directly across from me even as six mutated appendages slap together; striking the place where I once stood.

I grab it's repulsive head and yank upwards while kicking into it's chest with both feet to kill my momentum. In two seconds flat, I have de-headed it and thrown it's severed melon across the room and into the face of one of it's buddies, knocking it over.

One down, five to go.

The nearest bandersnatch--to the right side of the circle--is my next victim. Using my supernatural speed, I slam into it's chest fist-first like a freight train before it can even finish retracting it's arm. The struck bandersnatch flies through the wall and into the next room as if it were being shot from a gun--it's chest bones fatally piercing it's lungs and other internal organs.

One thing I have to say for Dad--he did train me well. I know just how to hit to kill most living organisms in one blow. 

A sticky, oversized hand stretches from the other side of the room like elastic and sticks to the nearby wall. Followed by another. And another. Then the rest of the bandersnatches follow, snapping back like rubber bands. 

Bandersnatches were never known for their intelligence. They don't have the sense to run from me like some other species do. And they certainly don't learn from other's mistakes.

The nearest bandersnatch launches it's hand forward, hoping to grab my head. But I catch it's arm mid-air and use it to swing the creature around into it's pals like a living club.

Whump! Whump! Whump! The other bandersnatches are temporarily disabled.

The bandersnatch who's arm I'm holding utters a growl of rage and displeasure.

" What's wrong Big Guy? Do you feel left out? " I tease, saying the words more for my own amusement then anything else.

Surprisingly, the monster seems to snarl a reply. " Well don't worry, " I bring the beast up close to me and break it's Neck in one swift motion. " you get to die like everyone else! " I cackle evilly.

Briefly, I find myself wondering how monsters without mouths can growl and moan. But only briefly, because the obvious answer is through the nasal passages--gross!

I spot another bandersnatch just starting to get up and lunge. I hit it from behind, rip off it's shriveled arm, and break the good one before twisting it's head all the way around. All in less than five seconds.

Only two left now.

Twenty seconds later, and both are down for the count, lying lifeless on the floor.

I deliberately trample over the bodies of my fallen foes before extending a hand out to motion a startled Claire in.

" As you were saying? " 

Her eyes light up, but she also seems worried. " Um...wow. Nice job. You didn't even get dirty."

I examine myself and note with pride that there is indeed no bandersnatch residue on my skin and clothes. Dried blood from previous battles, however, but it doesn't show up much on my dark outfit.

Claire still looks worried. I trace her eyes to the hole in the wall where I threw one of the bandersnatches.

Slowly, I feel some of my glee starts to evaporate.

" What? " My tone is more serious now. Something is bothering Claire.

She shakes her head. " Nothing. Let's move on."

She continues into the room, wrinkling up her nose in disgust as she steps around my kills.

I follow, but my mind is not at ease.

Why do I get the feeling 'nothing' is something?


	16. Mutation

****

Chapter 16

Now that I get a better chance to look at it, I realize we are standing in a type of office room not unlike many others I have seen with a single wooden desk and computer furnishing a space lined with cabinets and bookshelves. A large glass window looks out onto a huge stone statue of a woman in a bell-shaped dress. Beyond, bands of purple and red are just beginning to color the sky; heralding the rise of a new day.

I am just starting towards the window when the overall silence is broken by the heavy wing beats and insane shrieking of some horrible beast.

" What the…? " Claire doesn't finish because just then the biggest, ugliest bird I have ever seen flies by with a bloodied Barry gripped firmly in it's oversized talons.

" Shraaaaa! " The sudden screech is loud enough to break glass.

Barry is struggling in it's grip, yelling for help and pummeling the winged menace every chance he gets. Seconds later, and the giant bird has risen high up into the air.

There is a tug on my arm. " Alan! Do something! "

" Like what? " I hiss, upset because I know there is really nothing I can do when the animal is hundreds of feet in the air.

Now, if the bird where to get closer…

" I don't know! " Claire spews in an excited rush, " Jump up there and grab him away! " 

" Claire," I reply as coolly as possible, " I can't fly." The sad truth.

" But you can jump really high." Claire presses, desperate.

I shake my head. " Not that high. That bird's at least three hundred feet up. I can leap one hundred feet, maybe."

What can we do? Barry's only chance is if that bird flies close enough to the ground so if he gets free the fall wouldn't kill him.

" I would shoot, but I can't get a good aim and I might hit Barry." She's right.

I realize Barry's chances of survival are not good. Even through the glass I smell his blood, and I see several drops of it falling from the sky like red rain.

Poor Barry. He might be a Wesker-hating sourpuss, but he doesn't deserve _this_.

How can I help him? My mind races for an answer. There _has _to be a way! 

" Hey! Maybe if we distracted it, that giant turkey would fly down here! " Claire beams, " Quick! Break the glass! "

Break the glass? Yes! That just might get a big people-snatching bird's attention.

I reach out and tap the glass pane in front of me, shattering it instantly and making quite the racket as the broken shards connect with the stone patio.

" Shraaaa! Screee! " The big buzzard is interested.

As I watch, it swoops down in a dive with a shouting Barry still clutched firmly in it's claws. While I wait for it to near, I snatch a sharp wedge of glass still left hanging from the sill and ready it like a weapon. MR. Terror Bird is not going to like his surprise when he nears this window. As it approaches, I focus on one of the bird's legs. Closer…closer…there!

I throw the glass like a spear and strike the monster just above one of it's knee joints. Bullseye!

" Kaaaiiiiiieeeekikiki! " The monster bird cries in pain as the glass embeds itself all the way through it's leg in a spray of crimson.

It falters a bit midair before dropping it's prey.

Unfortunately, it did not choose a good place to drop Barry off. To my horror, Barry plummets down…right in line with a very long, very sharp spear fifteen feet high and being held by a smaller tribesman statue.

I turn away just before he makes the big splat. Somehow, I just don't have the stomach to see that. I don't care who you are, that has got to hurt!

A horrified gasp escapes Claire's throat. 

Want to or not, I _have_ to look.

The gruesome sight of Barry skewered on the spear is something I'm probably going to have nightmares about. Blood…there's so much blood!

At least the giant buzzard is gone for now--it's pain-cries are getting fainter in the distance.

Claire's expression is grim. " We'd better get him down."

" Right." I agree, leaping out the window and landing on the glass-littered stone. I hurry over to the stone tribesman. 

Behind me, Claire climbs down the hard way.

The spear appears to be made of metal. I grab it with both hands for leverage and bend it until it snaps. Something warm trickles onto my hands. Once I have the spear in my grasp, I lay it gently upon the ground and walk it's length Barry.

He's breathing!

He is a bloody mess and out cold, but he is still alive; his heart beats faintly and his breathing is slow. He has been impaled through the stomach with the blood-coated spear protruding about three feet out of his back.

" Claire, he's alive! " I call, astonished myself that he managed to survive such a piercing. The odds were greatly against it. But he must be in _horrible_ pain.

" Ohmigod! " Claire rushes over as I pull the spear free of it's fleshy sheath. " No! That's the worst thing you can do! " She yells once the spear is free, " Now the bleeding will be worse! "

" Well what do you want me to do? " I snap, " I'm no medic and we don't have the time or materials to do things properly. I don't know about you, but I think he'll be much easier to transport if he doesn't have a friggen spear ten feet long poking out his back! "

Increasingly louder flapping in the sky diverts my attention upwards where the approaching form of the hated Terror Bird draws closer. So the bird returns. I pick up Barry's spear. This time, I think, that bird will die.

" You take care of Barry," I instruct Claire, " I'll handle our fine-feathered fiend."

" Shraaaa! " The enormous black bird--is it an eagle? Vulture? Impossible to tell--dives at me; beak open and talons raked forward.

" Buddy, you just don't learn, do you? " I notice the glass shard is still firmly embedded in it's leg and blood is pouring out in a river.

I thrust the spear upward, putting every ounce of my strength into it.

My aim is deadly.

" Reeet! " The bird drops to the ground like a sack of bricks--harpooned right through the breast.

I tsk-tsk the lifeless body. " You shouldn'tve come back."

" What's happening? " Alexandra bounds from out of nowhere as I turn back to assist Claire with Barry.

Where'd she come from?

" A friend of ours is hurt," I explain without breaking stride, " just stay close, okay? "

I'll worry about where Alexandra was later. First thing's first.

" This bite doesn't look good either." Claire says when I kneel down next to her and Barry. She points to twin puncture wounds in Barry's right arm just above the elbow. They are each about the size of a quarter and oozing a disgusting yellow pus that dilutes the color of the blood to a light orange color. 

And that's not the worst of it.

Barry's entire arm is staring to turn a deep purple.

" Do you think it was some type of a giant snake? " I ask, helping Claire tear a strip of Barry's shirt to use as a tourniquet.

" Maybe," Claire agrees, " I can't think of anything else right off the top of my mind."

Then the scent overwhelms me. The same scent I smelled around Alexia and in the hut covering the secret Acid Rain entrance. A sweet, intoxicating fruity vanilla-ish smell. I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with the pleasant scent. What could it be? Then a dark thought enters my mind. Since I smelled this so strongly around Alexia, this might be the T-Veronica virus!

" I'm sorry, but your friend is _not_ going to be okay." Alexandra says, sounding eerily older than seven.

" What do you mean he's not..."

" Uhhnnn." Claire is cut off by Barry beginning to stir. " He's coming around! " She tightens the tourniquet before kneeling over by his head.

But something doesn't feel right, my nerves are screaming. Unfortunately, they appear to be screaming in a language I don't fully understand.

Barry's eyelids flutter, then fly open, revealing bloodred eyes.

That's all the proof I need.

" Barry, are you…" Claire starts to say, but I zip over like lightning and knock her fifty feet into the bushes. 

I hate to rudely interrupt friends, but if I'm right about this I'm doing her a big favor. If not, then I'm going to be looking awfully obnoxious.

Barry stares up at me with those bloodred eyes; only the pupils remain the proper color, and they are greatly dilated.

" I…I know you! " Barry manages in a weak, pain-filled voice. He wheezes, then coughs up blood.

That is _never _a good sign.

" Hey, what's the big idea? " Claire grumbles, but I tune her out; focus more on Barry. He is not looking good.

" That's right," I confirm to my wounded teammate, " it's me, Alan. How do you feel? "

Barry hacks up some more blood. " I just got ripped up by an overgrown chicken and tossed onto a sharp, pointy spear. How do _you _think I feel? "

His response startles me. I expected he might be delirious, but I hadn't been expecting sarcastic remarks. Maybe he will be okay after all.

" Alan, I think you owe me an apology! " Claire huffs from somewhere behind me.

Barry reaches up with one arm. " Could you…help me sit up? "

I nod and reach for his arm. Just before I can grab it, his hand jerks upward with amazing speed and grabs my throat!

" What are you doing?! " I yelp, surprised by the sheer strength of his grip. 

He's strong! Awfully strong for a guy on his deathbed.

Instinctively, I reach out with both hands and try to pry his hand away from my neck. At that very moment his arm literally starts growing. I watch in astonishment as muscle after muscle bulks his arm up to four…no, **five** times it's original size! The hand holding my neck swells to the size of a baked ham, crushing my windpipe. As it puffs out, his flesh turns a sickly mottled green color and giant purple veins the width of spaghetti crisscross all over his arm--no, all over his _body_! Because it's not just his arm, but his entire body that is bulking up and changing color.

" Oh shit! " Claire shrieks, and she's right because this isn't the worst of it. 

Even as I struggle to pry the overgrown fingers from my throat, Barry climbs to his feet. His clothing begins to rip and snap as he grows taller and taller, until at last I dangle several feet above the ground.

I can just barely move my hands and I'm finding it increasingly difficult to breath-- all I can do is stare at the hideous thing Barry has become.

If I don't get free soon, he's going to choke me to death!

Wrapping both hands around Barry's Hulk-like fist, I strain and struggle, twisting and jerking my body like a madman. But to no avail. 

He's too powerful! 

In a last effort, I kick him in the stomach. It seems to have no effect.

His grip tightens, a constrictor constricting my neck. 

I try to open my mouth to call out, but I cannot make the words come.

Air! Must have….lungs burning…vision dimming…I feel the life start to drain away. 

Is this what it feels like to die? 

Darkness. Many sounds. A woman yelling. Loud noises. Scary noises. Flying. Something rough. Something cold. Wetness on my face. A voice. A familiar sound.

" Wake up! You hear me? You have to get up! " 

Such a funny sound. " Get..up? " Are the words mine or his?

Coldness on my face.

" Get up! They need you! " The voice.

Who needs me? Aren't I already there? The beach was an hour ago. Friday was cooking.

I open my eyes. Fuzzy. A man is standing there with fuzz all over him. He looks so silly!

" You must be from the circus. Nice happy evening, Mr. Fuzz! Which way to the peanuts? "

I shut my eyes. Dark again.

" Alan! This is no time to take a nap! You're dreaming. You're delirious. But you _have to get up_. Now! "

Get up? I open my eyes.

" My neck hurts. And so does my head. Just a few more minutes…" He'll understand. He_ has _to. I need more sleep. It's not time to get up yet.

" Come on, you're a Wesker! You can beat this! Fight it! You need to fight. You need to open your eyes and get up now or Claire will die."

Claire? I open my eyes.

No fuzzy man. Just lots and lots of leaves.

Wait a second, _leaves?! _Where the heck am I? And what am I doing?

It all comes back to me in a flood: Barry, Claire…Claire! I have to save Claire! Isn't that what the voice said? Who's voice?

I realize I am laying in the dirt and bushes against the side of a wall. I leap to my feet. No time to worry about Mystery Man, I have to save Claire from that Barry-thing! And now that I can breathe again, I'm going to make a point of staying away from those Texas-sized death grip hands.

" Barry! You have to remember who you are! " Claire trembles. She is standing just over a hundred feet away--with building walls to either side and Barry closing in from the front.

She's trapped!

I leap the hedges separating us in one big stride and flash forward in a blur of speed. Barry has his back turned to me, which is advantageous.

Of course, Barry no longer looks like Barry. The creature that has taken his place rivals Mauler in strength and size. No way am I just going to be able to knock this big boy aside to rescue the damsel in distress. And if I just dart in to grab her, he might capture both of us.

It takes me less than two seconds to find the solution--another tribal statue holding a spear. In moments I have broken it off, and now I charge Barry with it.

Barry closes in on Claire, the stone cracking where he steps.

I pour on the speed.

He readies his monstrous arm for the kill…and I stab him right through the back of his bald green head, pointy-end first. Thankfully, he does not have the heavy scale-armor of a supertyrant, and the spear-tip protrudes right out of his forehead.

Ew.

I give the handle of the spear a hearty yank to the side so his falling mass will not squash Claire.

Releasing the spear, and allowing Barry to fall to the side, I approach her. 

" Are you alright? " I ask, noting with alarm the bruises on her arms and face.

" I'm fine, thanks to you." But her voice is solemn and sad.

I follow her gaze over to the lifeless, mutated form that was once Barry Burton.

There is something sticky on my hands. I look down and notice they are coated in blood. And it is not my blood--it's Barry's. It must have happened while I was helping him down off the spear. I do remember something warm trickling down my hands, but I'd been too busy to look.

_Perfect_, I think sarcastically, _Why does it have to be Barry's blood? _For just once, can't I keep my hands clean?

" Did you use the magnum? " I ask absently, examining my hands.

" Yes. Didn't you hear it going off? I emptied all five shots into that Barry-thing. All they did was piss him off. That's why he flung you aside like a rag doll and came after me. I did what I could, but he kept blocking my escape. I figured you'd probably be up and attacking, but what took you? Five more seconds and I would've been a messy stain on the ground."

I shake my head. " You don't know how close he came to killing me. I couldn't breathe! He crushed my windpipe and strangled me almost to death. I don't remember you shooting. And I don't remember being thrown. I just remember someone telling me I had to get up, that's all. By the way, did you see a man go by in a fur coat? "

Claire cocks an eyebrow and gives me an are-you-crazy look. " We're in Africa. In the hot season. What kind of dummy would be waltzing around in a fur coat? "

I scratch my head, then frown when I realize I have probably just wiped a lot of red Barry blood through my blonde hair. " You're probably right, I just…I wasn't thinking too clearly then and my eyes hadn't come back into focus yet. He might not have been there at all. I remember mumbling some gibberish about a circus. By the way, where's Alexandra? "

Claire's frown deepens. " I was about to ask you."

I heave a sigh. " We've gotta get a radio for that kid. Or a radio collar--whichever."

Claire turns her head away, trying not to focus on Barry. She is very upset.

More upset than I am.

It's not that I'm _happy_ to see Barry go, quite the contrary. He was basically a good man and his heart was in the right place. His death is a sadness, unfortunate. And yes, I do feel a little guilty because he decided to follow me out here, even if it was his own decision. Still…I will not miss him.

Sad but true.

I find myself wondering if this is a side effect of me being numb to death or if it is a side effect of me being around my father too long. Dad could care less when people die, unless it is someone he personally has feelings for. 

I pray that this is not rubbing off on me.

" I'm sorry," I say in my best comforting tone, " Even if we'd gotten him away from that bird in time…those bite marks…" I let it hang. She will understand what I am trying to say.

And where is Alexandra, anyway? Though I have been keeping an eye out for her, I do not detect her anywhere, and this has me worried. She is, after all, only a kid. And there are so many thing out there that would kill her in a hurry.

Strange that she keeps running off--she must just be scared. 

I don't blame her.

If I'd seen someone mutate the way Barry did when I was her age, it would've sent me home screaming to Mommy and Daddy. And I'd probably be afraid to be left alone for any length of time for a month at least.

The stuff nightmares are made of.

No child should have to go through what she must be right now. Poor thing.

Claire turns away, shaking her head. " We should probably look for Alexandra. She's out there alone and she couldn't have gotten far."

I must admit that I am very concerned for her safety. How she's managed to survive by herself for this long without becoming infected or killed is a mystery to me.

Claire rubs a hand to the bruise on her face. I don't like seeing her like this. She looks so worn and tired. 

" Good idea. We can look around this garden area and guess where she might have gone." She pauses a second, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. " You have the super-hearing, do you think it's safe to call for her? "

I pause, testing the early morning air. The clouds hang heavy and moist with the threat of rain, but not too many nasties are around at the moment. The faint scent of fire and smoke flares up from the distance. The fire must've burned off the other way.

I hear the moaning and drunken stagger of zombies all around, skittering of claws, and beats of wings, but none of it is ringing any alarms. We are relatively safe. 

For now.

" It's alright if you don't get carried away on the volume." I confirm.

Claire takes a shallow breath and moves out towards some sheltering bushes heavy with dew. " Alexan…"

" Beep! Beep! " The radio interrupts. 

" My radio! "


	17. Alexia's Second Daughter

__

**Chapter 17**

Great. So _now_ someone tries to radio us. Why hasn't this happened sooner?

When we first started on this mission, Chris talked like everyone was going to be keeping in close contact. I noticed nobody tried to contact us while we were in Acid Rain. And Claire and I have been alone for the better part of an hour, I'm sure.

Claire loses no time in retrieving her radio and pressing the button. 

" Someone trying to get a hold of me? " She moves off slightly to the side.

My eyes dart to the statues that stand guard around here as if this place were some sort of a holy shrine. I don't want to make Claire uneasy in case she doesn't like being watched. I know that sometimes I can scare people without meaning to. Especially without my shades.

It's my eyes--they always make me look angry and fierce.

Though my eyes are elsewhere, I keep my ears tuned to the radio.

It is Chris's voice that comes on. " Claire! Where are you? Is anyone else with you? " He sounds relieved.

Yuck. That is the ugliest statue I have ever seen. A fat, naked tribes-boy with bucked-teeth and diseased-looking skin holding a squealing piglet with it's guts leaking through a gash on it's undersides? Who buys this garbage?

Seriously, these people have really, _really_ bad taste.

" I'm near Umbrella's facility, just past the northern fence of Sambabwia."

" You alone? " He worries.

" No, Alan's with me. We…we kind of got split up when Alexia attacked. "

Chris is horrified. " Alexia?! Here in Africa?! Ohmigod, that's bad! "

" And that's not the worst ," Claire continues, " she brought along her psychotic brother and son to help her with the dirty laundry. And did I mention she's the mastermind behind those supertyrants wanting to kill us?…"

As Claire goes on filling in the blanks, I look away from statue after statue.

There must be at least a dozen of them scattered in random order throughout the area as far as I can see. Each one even more horrible, even more disgusting and bizarre than the last.

Most are of natives. Some are of more civilized appearance. All of them are uglier than a hunter's butt. Make that face. Hunters are not pretty mutations.

And some of the expressions…ugh. I've seen better features on zombies. 

Obviously, the purpose of these hideous depictions was to scare people away from the labs. With all the money Umbrella makes, I would have a hard time believing they couldn't afford classier stonework to do the decorating with.

"…and then he died." Claire finishes, explaining what happened to Barry.

But I notice she left part of it out and twisted the truth a bit. She said Barry died on the spear--she totally skipped the part where he mutated into a big monster and nearly killed us.

Oh well. What Chris doesn't know won't hurt him.

Exc_ept he doesn't know about Dad, _my conscience scolds, _and that **could** hurt him. Very, very seriously hurt him._

Nothing like a little guilt to put a shower on your picnic.

Then again, it's early morning now. For all I know, Dad could already be done with his work and be three-thousand miles away by now.

Then again, Alexia might ask me out on a date.

The sooner we get this mission over with, the better.

_That's all that matters right now,_ I tell myself, _don't worry about afterwards when your father and friends set out to kill each other._

Who am I kidding?

My only hope is if Mom can somehow convince Dad to settle down in a nice little area far, far away from Bayview and never kill people again.

In other words--I have no hope.

There is a stretch of silence between Claire and her brother.

Then Chris says, " Well, I guess you'd better find Alexandra then. We can mourn for Barry later. Try to stay away from Alexia…"

" Darn! And here I was thinking of inviting her to make S'mores for everyone using her hands for the campfire! " Claire teases.

Nice to hear she still has her sense of humor.

Chris sounds sheepish. " Er…right. Cancel the S'mores. Find missing people. Keep a low profile. And whatever you do, Sis, _do not _get separated from Alan. Especially since you're out of ammunition. Even if you weren't, it's a jungle out here. Literally. I'd feel better knowing you were with someone."

" Roger." Claire agrees, regaining some of her pep.

" I'm going to look for Carlos and Rebecca," Chris states, " Those supertyrants did a pretty good job of splitting us up. And I'll try to get the cure to the T-Veronica virus if I find Acid Rain. But my first priority is going to be finding everyone. Make sure your radio doesn't get lost or destroyed and contact me if anything develops. Good luck! "

" Good luck to you too, bro." Claire parts before stuffing her radio back into place. She gives me a lopsided grin.

Weird.

" What? " I gush, wondering what she could be happy about.

" You." Claire points an accusing finger at me, " You heard every word we said, didn't you? "

Why deny it? I nod. " Yep. Not like you were making much of an effort to keep quiet anyway."

A zombie's sudden attack moan catches my attentions. Normally a zombie does not moan _that_ loudly unless it has found some dinner. I should check it out.

Hmm. Sounded like it came from just around the corner a few hundred feet away on the other side of the building. Without further thought, I dash off in the direction of the noise.

" Hey! Where are you going? Wait up! " A befuddled Claire calls from behind me.

Oh. Right. She can't zip. And she probably didn't hear the moan.

I slow to a normal run--although it feels almost like walking to me--and call to Claire to follow.

We round the corner of the mansion…and I about leap out of my socks at the sight of even _more_ hideous statues lining a narrow pathway into a hedge.

What is the deal here? If I didn't have more important things to do, I would probably be out rearranging these statues with my fists. The only thing worse than seeing them is seeing them _up close_. Gag me.

Three zombies dressed in red Umbrella uniforms block my path. Seconds before I reach them, their decaying eye sockets seem to light up with a cold fire.

I am easy pickings, they think.

Pulling one of my favorite attack moves, I leap forward a few feet into the air and drive my foot into the chest of the first zombie in line.

It is a domino effect--I've noticed zombies have a habit of clumping too closely together--and as we land I stomp over their faces without losing time. Now the path is also clear for Claire. 

Not far up, the trail suddenly splits into a 'T', and at the left of this T Alexandra is cornered in a dead-end surrounded by thick thorns and the mother of all homely tribal statues.

A zombie is closing in on her--it can't be more than three feet in front of her.

I am about to act when Alexandra suddenly thrusts her arms forward and scrapes one rough bracelet against the other at a very quick speed.

Sparks fly and ignite. A bright plume of blazing fire erupts from each wrist like twin flamethrowers.

They catch the unsuspecting zombie right in the face and knock him backward--his entire head and upper-torso aflame.

" Uuugghnnn! " The zombie moans in frustration.

But Alexandra is not finished; stepping forward, she keeps the flames bared on the fiery zombie until he falls to the ground--completely ablaze.

Then the fire coming out of her wrists just…stops.

The entire process takes about six seconds.

" Alexandra? " I gawk, probably sounding like the stupidest person in Dumbville.

Alexandra looks to me, and I am just in time to see the fiery red glow leave her eyes. They return to blue.

" Alan? " She sounds nervous and unsure.

She backs to the edge of the briar patch, leaving the zombie to burn on the ground.

Water begins to pour from the sky in a light drizzle that douses the flames.

Claire brushes past me, utterly amazed.

How did she do that? We can pretty much rule out the possibility of 'normal'. And just when I thought I'd seen it all.

" It's alright," Claire soothes, " We won't hurt you."

Alexandra does not seem convinced. " _He _might!" She jabs a finger at me.

I shake my head. " No, no I won't." I say in my most non-threatening voice, " I would never hurt children. Why do you think I want to hurt you? "

Alexandra's eyelids flutter in fear, " Because you're Wesker's son."

I slap a hand to my face. " Great Aunt Beatrice! Does everybody and their cousin know that? 'Cause I don't remember taking an add out in the paper."

" Wesker is a bad guy. He wants to kill me or take me away so HCF can experiment on me." Alexandra explains, " You act nice, but you're still his family. I can't trust you."

How to put this? " I am Wesker's son, that is true. But I like to think of myself as one of the good guys. I promise I'm not going to try and hurt you or take you away. I want to help you. You do want to get back to your family, right? "

Alexandra nods slowly, not daring to take her eyes off of me. " Yes. Once I find them, I will be safe. That's why I kept running away. I don't want to make anyone worry, but I've got to find my mommy. Not even Wesker would try to get me if she were near."

" That must mean that…" Claire perks excitedly, reaching the shocking conclusion at the same time as me.

Alexandra gives us a wry smile. " I didn't want to tell you this, but my mommy is Alexia and my daddy is Alfred. I have a big brother, too. His name is Ash. And I just found out tonight that your friend Alexis is my missing sister. I'm sorry for not trusting you. My parents always tell me never to trust anyone."

But Alexandra had said she was seven years old--something's wrong, the dates don't match up.

" But…your mom…" I find myself grasping for words.

" You can't be seven years old." Claire finishes for me.

Alexia was resurrected just five years ago. Before that, she'd been hibernating in a tube somewhere in the Antarctic. 

At least, that's how I understand.

Alexandra plays with her red hair bow; looking so incredibly young and innocent. " We should find your friends. C'mon, I'll tell you what I can on the way."

" Okay." Claire agrees.

I turn and lead the way back out of the T with Claire and Alexandra trailing a few paces behind me.

" I'm not really seven." Alexandra confesses, " Actually, I'm not quite three yet. For some reason, I grow and learn faster than what I hear is normal."

" Much, _much_ faster," Claire replies.

" You're a few years ahead of your time." I add, avoiding making eye contact with the statues or Alexandra. I don't want to make her uncomfortable. " How'd it happen? "

" I…I don't know." Alexandra admits, " I guess I was just born that way. _Born Special_, that's what Mom calls it. That's why I have these powers."

" What kind of powers? " Claire pries with growing interest.

" For one thing, I'm pretty strong for a kid. And that fire you saw? I can blow something like gasoline out of special…glands…yeah, that's what they're called--in my wrists. That's why I wear these flint bracelets. When I scrape them together real fast and at the same time shoot my gas-fluid, it makes a line of fire like a flamethrower. Kind of like holding a lit match to a can of hairspray and spraying. I can start or stop the stuff coming out of my wrists whenever I want. Mom taught me how to do that. But…I'm not as good as she is. She doesn't even _need_ bracelets; she can throw fireballs and catch her whole body on fire and everything."

" So we've noticed." I reply grimly, reaching the end of the path and the area at which we entered.

After listening a moment, I decide to try inside the mansion again. There is a lot of noise happening in there and I have not searched the whole place yet.

The others follow me inside without stopping or even questioning. They are so oblivious I could probably lead them right off a canyon ledge right now.

" The fire doesn't burn your hands? " Claire asks.

" Uhn-uh." Alexandra answers, " That's the weird part. It hurts Dad and Ash, and everyone else, but not Mom and me. Mom says we have something special in our skin but…I forgot what she called it. It was a strange word I have a hard time saying."

The foyer looks pretty empty save the bodies of the zombies who got in my way last time through.

Out of impulse, I pick a blue-and-gold sapphire-embedded door to the left and head in.

" I remember your mom used to throw her blood from her wrists and seconds after the drops hit the ground they exploded into fire." I bring up, scanning the lounge we have just entered with diminishing interest.

Is it just me, or does Umbrella have way too many lounges? It's a wonder any work gets done.

This lounge doesn't even have snacks--just two loveseats facing a small coffee table.

A zombie feigns dead on the floor.

A quick stomp to the skull from my boot, and she is no longer feigning.

" Fireblooding? " Alexandra pipes, excited. 

There's a term for that?

" Sure! I can do it too! The blood also comes from my wrists. Only…I don't do it much because I'm still growing and I need my blood in my body. I always feel weaker whenever I do it. So I only do it if I have to."

" Makes sense." Claire agrees, watching my eyes sweep over the room.

Right. Like any of this actually makes sense.

I stop right in front of the next door.

Steve has been through here. I smell his scent, his blood.

" Steve's close." I state, noting the freshness of the scent.

" Really? Do you smell him? " Claire pipes, reading my mind.

I nod. " Yes. This way! "

I open the door and step into a large room filled with mattresses.

That's right: mattresses. Dozens of them…there has to be at least a hundred!

They are everywhere: propped against walls, stacked one on top of another, side by side. Mattresses of every make and design. And they all look brand new.

" Did I miss something? " I marvel, " When did we get to the Simmons factory? "

Why do they have all these mattresses here? The room is barely big enough to accommodate such a large number.

The skittering of claws turns my attention to the nice solid door in front of us. In just instants, that nice solid door explodes right off it's hinges in a shower of wood and splinters, and about half a dozen hunters leap in!

Oh boy.

Aiiiieeee!!!! " The lead hunter calls, then stops in it's tracks when it sees me.

There's something about hunters…that's right! They take orders from my father and I.

It has been a few years since my last encounter with a hunter, but there's no reason this shouldn't work.

I hold a hand back and gesture Claire and Alexandra to stay put. " Don't worry, I'll handle this."

I had expected they might attack, but instead the hunters are just standing there like a bunch of ugly green bowling pins; their arms to their sides, their expressions uncertain.

To their credit, hunters have a bit more intelligence than most T-virus creatures. They know how to open doors, they can understand a few simple words, and, apparently, they know danger when they see it. They are cautious of me. Perhaps they can sense I am not quite what I seem.

Just to be certain they understand who's boss, I glow my eyes at them.

That does it. They begin to back up and prepare to turn and bolt.

" Wait! " I bark authoritively, " I have orders for you ugly slimebags! Listen up or I'll tear you all to shreds! "

I've always wanted to say that. So maybe Dad was right. Maybe I _do _have a bit of a dark nature. But it's not as if these monsters don't deserve it.

The hunters turn and face me obediently, spittle dripping in messy puddles from their hideous misshapen mouths.

Ugh. Talk about gross.

Now time for a little fun.

" Do you disgusting cretins know what Alexia Ashford looks like? " I demand, my voice harsh and powerful.

The hunters all look at each other--deformed monkey/frog/bear-trap faces registering no comprehension.

I sigh. Perhaps they are not all that smart after all. " The woman with the yellow hair in the red clothes. She throws fire from her hands. Have you seen her? "

It is as if a light goes on somewhere inside their puny little brains. They nod vigorously.

I rub my hands together. " Good. Find her. Kill her. Go! "

The hunters take off down the adjoining hall in hurried leaps before busting out a side window and vanishing from sight.

I turn to Claire and Alexandra. " Pretty cool, huh? "

Claire laughs, seeming in higher spirits. " Do you really think they'll attack Alexia? "

I shrug. " Who cares? If they do, they will die and slow Alexia down for us. If they don't, they're not going to want to cross paths with me again. "

She shakes her head, a playful smile lighting up her face. " You mean thing you. I wonder if they realize you've sent them on a kamikaze mission? "

" Probably not," I answer while starting down the hall, " carriers of T-virus tend not to be all that bright."

" No kidding." Claire agrees.

I follow Steve's scent to a big door on the left side of the less-than-elaborate corridor.

Someone's breathing in there.

And it doesn't sound like a supertyrant.

The knob comes open easily. We step inside, sending Steve about ten feet into the air.

" Oh! It's just you! " Steve says, relieved, " I thought you might be Ashfords."

" What, are you disappointed? " Claire teases.

Steve pretends to be thoughtful. " Let me see…" he puts a finger to his temple, " You're not a psychotic super-bitch bent on my destruction….no. I can safely say that I am not disappointed about that." He cocks an eyebrow and Alexandra. " Good! You've found her! "

Steve sits back on the plush, red sofa like he had been just moments before we came in.

I notice this is a weapons room: guns of all kinds hang from hooks on the walls and the heavy scent of gunpowder suggests ammo is nearby. There are even glass display cases for some of the fancier weapons. The sofa faces the displays, allowing onlookers to sit and gawk at all the weapons. It is not a large room-- a small desk in the corner is the only other piece of furniture.

I'll bet this is a room that would stay locked under normal circumstances. A guy could snag a gun from here and do serious damage if he wanted. Even Umbrella must realize that.

Claire and Alexandra head over to the sofa and seat themselves next to Steve.

" Um, Steve? " Claire announces, " There's couple of things I have to tell you. First, Alexandra is, to put it bluntly, an Ashford. And She has T-Veronica virus."

Here it comes.

Steve's eyes widen. His face twists into a funny expression of shock and surprise. " You're _Alexia's_ daughter? " He looks at Alexandra in a new light.

Alexandra nods, but she doesn't seem proud of it. " Yes. And Alfred's. I was born with special powers, and I'm actually much younger than I look. I got lost. But don't worry, I'm not mean or anything. I hope."

Claire leans into Steve. Looking like she's about ready to fall asleep.

Everybody's probably getting tired by now. I would probably be feeling it more if I didn't have such a high endurance. I can go a week without sleep if I must.

Though I prefer not to--it puts such a strain on me.

Steve and Claire will probably want to rest and catch up.

And this is a pretty safe room to rest in.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to leave them alone for awhile: search for everyone else. Including Mom and Spade. They have to be around here somewhere.

" You all look very tired…" I start.

" Oh! I could fall asleep right now! " Claire sighs.

" I'm not feeling top-notch myself," Steve seconds, " but if you fall asleep around here, you just might not wake up."

" Look…I was thinking it might be better if you all rested in here for awhile while I went on searching." I suggest, " There's plenty of weapons in here, and you should be safe for the time being. If I find anyone, I'll bring them back here, and we'll be that much closer to getting out of here. What do you say? "

They nod. " Good idea. Here, catch! " Steve tosses his radio at me; a bit awkwardly, it goes too low.

I dive down in a blur of movement and catch the radio inches before it would've hit the ground.

" Whoa, nice reflexes!" Steve cheers, " We'll call you if we need help."

" Or if you have to move." I add before turning out the door, " I don't want to have to hunt all of you down too. It's dangerous out there."

" You don't have to tell _me_." Claire murmurs, snuggling into Steve.

I shove my new radio into it's holster and close the door behind me when I step out.

Seconds later, Steve's footsteps sound and there is the click of the door being locked.

It's a good idea, but sadly not much protection against Alexia or supertyrants.

_Or Dad_. I remind myself. He never let a little thing like a locked door stand between him and victory.

I turn down the hall, heading a new direction, dark thoughts weighing heavily on my mind.

Dad.

Why do I get the feeling I'm going to be seeing him very soon? 


	18. He's Baaaaaack!

****

Chapter 18

I've searched almost the entire upstairs and about half of the downstairs without results for about fifteen minutes before a faint sound from down below catches my attention.

Cries of pain. Someone is hurt. Bad.

I race through the rooms and halls and plow right on through the lock doors without even bothering to stop; following the noises.

Naturally, the monsters and zombies do everything in their power to stop me. What a joke. I either slap them aside or blow right on past the braindead undead.

Whoever is making these sounds needs help fast.

Down a flight of stairs. Left. Left. Right. Left again. Hunters. They scatter when they see me, but one is not quite fast enough to get out of my way and I knock it through a wall.

" Move it or lose it, Buster! " I hiss.

Everything down here is either concrete or wood. Walls, floor, ceiling…a total lack of décor. Yep. This is your typical Umbrella lab. At least Acid Rain made _some_ effort to make their place look halfway nice.

Acid Rain. Now that I think of it, I really should be visiting there again soon. I haven't forgotten about that wonderful cure.

Another cry. It sounds like it's coming from right under my feet. Of course, I could simply dive right on through the floor; it wouldn't take many hits, but then I might hurt whoever's down there, and I've hurt enough people already.

There is a door to my left. Looks promising. Locked with a padlock. No problem. A quick punch to the lock solves that problem, and I find myself alone in a room with a zombie. No other doors--it's a dead-end.

" Rats! " I curse. I could've _swore_ this was the right way.

The zombie--a female in a white labcoat--starts in on me.

" Don't you guys ever give up? " I mutter, leaping up and kicking her head into orbit. The rest of her falls to the ground in a bloody mess.

Well, this isn't solving anything.

I turn and head back out--right into a supertyrant! How did it get here so fast?

" Hey Brusier, I found the one with T-2 virus! " The supertyrant hollers, licking his shark's teeth with that ugly tongue.

" Well, now you've just lost him! " I blurt, turning around and zipping back down the hall. 

I am just not interested in fighting supertyrants. Especially two.

I hear what must be 'Bruiser' busting through a wall somewhere behind me with all the grace of a freight train in a china shop.

" You can run, Wesker, but you can't hide! "

Now how the cat-hair do they know my name? A good question. Maybe Alexia told them.

Yeah, that has to be it.

I turn into another room; the supertyrants thundering after me.

Right. Like they can catch me. They might be bullet-proof super-strong baddies, but they move like turtles. It must be hard to run on those clumsy gigantic T-rex feet.

" After him Stomper! " Bruiser's voice bellows.

" I'm trying, I'm trying! " Stomper grumbles, " That little rat is awfully fast! "

" Yeah, but _I_ don't want to be the one explaining that to Alexia!"

If I can avoid running myself into a corner, I should be able to lose them. I can only pray the other two aren't nearby.

The next room I enter has a staircase leading down. Instinctively, I dart down it.

Mark had said that supertyrants could see heat. It's awfully cool further underground, but surely they won't be able to see heat _really_ far under, and through lots of walls and floors at that.

The stairs lead into a pitch-black underground room with tiny lights emitting from machinery. 

It is all the light I need.

Looks like experiments were conducted here. Tables, trays, bottles, and flasks filled with liquids…animal parts sown onto people.

Wait a minute.

_Animal parts sown onto people?! _That's not right!

About five bodies lay on operating tables off to the far wall, shrouded in darkness. One has a dog's head. Some have paws instead of hands. One even has a crocodile head with panther legs and paws.

What the hell do these people _do_ down here?!

This definitely qualifies as one of the most horrifying and disgusting things I have seen in my life.

A flare of hatred sparks inside of me. Maybe Umbrella scientists _do_ deserve turning into zombies. If I catch someone alive who I find out had a hand in this…my thoughts are interrupted by the moaning of someone in pain. 

They're _very _close by!

I rush over to the wall on the right: the source of the sounds.

There is no door. Looks like I'm going to have to _make_ one. I ram my fist through the wall like a jackhammer--again and again. This wall is thicker than I thought. But after the fourth hit, I have made a hole big enough to pass through.

This leads to a brightly lit hall. Rebecca's voice cries from a room on the left.

Rebecca!

I zip down and throw open the door.

" Ah! Please, no more! " Rebecca trembles, her eyes shut tightly.

She is laying strapped to a hospital bed with steel cuffs trapping her wrists and ankles to the platform. She is dripping with blood--several knives and daggers have been stabbed into her body. Arms, thighs, legs, midsection…she has four blades pinned into her body! 

Someone has been torturing her! Poor thing.

Approaching slowly, I pull the wicked-looking dagger from her stomach.

My heart lurches as more blood gushes from the wound.

Rebecca screams in pain. If she doesn't get help soon, she'll die of bloodloss.

No! I won't let that happen! Nobody else I care about is going to die today while I have something to say about it.

" Rebecca, it's alright." I soothe, " I'm here and I'm going to take care of you."

" Alan? " Rebecca opens her eyes, " It's you! I thought you were Wesker."

I frown. " Yeah. That always seems to be my problem. Who did this to you? Was it Alexia? Alfred? Ash? "

Rebecca frowns, horrified, " No. It was…Wesker."

" Wesker?! " I yelp, horrified. 

Dad did this. That lousy…footsteps running in the hall.

Chris barges in. " What's all the…no. God no." He says upon laying eyes on Rebecca. He locks eyes with me. " _What happened?! _"

" I just came in and found her like this! " I blurt, a million emotions happening at once, and knowing I was talking so fast I probably sounded like: Ijustcameinandfoundherlikethis!

Chris rushes to Rebecca's side and plucks a knife from her arm. " Rebecca! Who did this? "

Rebecca coughs, obviously in a lot of pain. " Wesker. He…"

" Wesker's here?!?! " Chris glares at me. If looks could kill, I would be dead.

" You're darn right I am. I wouldn't want to miss out on all the fun." Dad walks in. 

I feel like crying. Can things get any worse?

Chris begins to raise his weapon.

At the same instant, Dad zips forwards and grabs Rebecca's face. " Ah ah ah, Chris. Lower your weapon or I separate her head from her body. Anybody moves, she dies. Capish? "

Chris lowers his gun. 

I feel like a monkey standing around and watching, a stupid monkey. But there is nothing I can do. Dad is every bit as quick as I am, and I know him well enough to know that he is not bluffing. If I even look like I'm going to move, he'll kill her.

All I can do is hope to talk him out of hurting Rebecca.

Under Dad's grip, Rebecca faints; though weather it is from bloodloss or fear, I cannot tell.

Dad grins at me. " Well done, Son."

" Don't you try and pull that! " I snort, " You know damn well I didn't have anything to do with this! "

" But you must have," Dad purrs, keeping an eye on Chris, " You knew I was headed for Africa, then you came. And you brought along your friends without bothering to tell them that I was here. It's not my fault if there is to be any confusion. Gees, with friends like you, S.T.A.R.S. doesn't need me! "

" Is that true? " Chris snorts, " Did you betray us? " 

I return Chris's hateful glare. " Think about it, bonehead. If I had betrayed you, would I be arguing with my father to try and save Rebecca's life? "

I am not in the best of moods right now.

Dad smiles, and I feel like ripping his shades off his face and beating him with them. Through those sunglasses, I see his eyes fall onto my hands. " Oh, you're such the good guy! " He turns his attention to Chris, who is standing to the side of Rebecca's table only feet away. " Ask him this, Chris. Ask him why he has Barry's blood all over his hands if he's on your side."

Chris glares at me, and I feel like wilting. " You have Barry's blood on your hands? "

Dad's smile is smug.

" It's just like Claire said, and while I got Barry's body down from the spear, some of his blood got onto my hands. I didn't have time to wash up."

" So he says." Dad interjects.

" Well, Claire did tell it the same way…" Chris admits, " Why are we even talking about this? Wesker, why don't you let Rebecca go and pick on somebody your own size! "

" They might fight back." Dad laughs, tracing a finger along Rebecca's neck.

I flinch. He usually only does that when he's about to either snap someone's neck or rip out their throat.

" Dad, let her go." I try in my most reasonable voice, " If you want a fight, then fight me. Fight Alexia. Just leave Rebecca out of it."

" I don't want to fight," Dad seethes, eyes flashing with anger, " I want to kill! S.T.A.R.S. will pay for what they did! "

" And what did Rebecca do, exactly? " 

Dad's expression softens, and for a split second I think I have gotten through. " Other than survive when she wasn't supposed to, absolutely nothing. I just can't stand her."

A thought occurs. " Did you know that the reason I came down here was to rescue Mom and Spade? Or did you even know they were here? "

Dad arches an eyebrow, processing. " Hmm. I guess I do now. Oh well. I can look for them once I'm through here."

" I thought I was the one you wanted! " Chris huffs, " Take me instead!"

" What kind of an idiot do you take me for? " Dad growls, " I attack you, and Alan might attack me. Then I lose both you _and_ Rebecca."

" But if you kill Rebecca," I add quickly, " I will kill you."

For just a split second, shock electrifies Dad's eyes. Clearly he wasn't expecting me to say that. But it only lasts a second.

" Tough words, Son. We both know you better than that. You might try and toss me around some, sure. But when push comes to shove, we both know you wouldn't do it." He sounds very confident.

And he's right: It _was_ a bluff. I could never kill my own father. Sometimes I _feel _like it.

I shrug. " Maybe, maybe not. Would you like to find out? " A last stab at hope. I'll tell just about any lie I can think of it has a chance of saving Rebecca.

A loud crashing from somewhere out in the hall interrupts our conversation.

The supertyrants! They must've picked up my trail somehow.

For a brief instant, Dad has his head turned the other direction. For a brief instant, he relaxes his grip on Rebecca.

I take advantage of the brief instant.

Quickly as I possibly can, I lurch forward in a blur of speed and slam into Dad with my extended arm.

" Hey, Dad! Here comes your fan club! " I remark as my unprepared father goes flying right out the open door and puts a generous dent into the cement wall of the hall.

" There he is! " A supertyrant yells as I slam the door. 

No sense in getting them all excited.

" Excuse me? What the hell is _this_? " Dad says as the supertyrants thunder closer.

" We, you spineless worm, are supertyrants. You killed our brother Mauler! For that you must die! "

" No, no. You must've mistaken me for my back-stabbing son. He's right in that room, by the way."

" You lie! "

" No I don't! " Dad growls, " I think I would remember a face _that _ugly."

" Let's get him Killer! Remember not to damage the body too badly, we need proof for Alexia! "

The floor trembles under the weight of two or more supertyrants stampeding.

" Wait! No! You…Alan! You're going to regret this! " Dad yells above all the commotion.

Trying to hear his footsteps through the noise of the supertyrants would be a lot like trying to hear a cat meow during a stampede of elephants. But he must be getting away, as the supertyrants thunder right on by the door, cursing and muttering to themselves.

" I get dibs on the eyes! " One calls.

" Oh _yeah_? Only if _you_ catch him! " Another replies sourly.

I wait until the footfalls have died away to a receding dull roar, then turn to face my teammates.

That went rather well. Dad can't do anything while he's busy running from the supertyrants, and as an added bonus, it gives the supertyrants something to do. It will keep them all preoccupied for awhile.

" Phew! That was a close one! " I exclaim once the danger has passed.

But Chris is busy leaning over Rebecca, plucking knives and daggers out of her flesh. He attempts to pry off one of the metal cuffs attaching her wrist to the bed.

I side up with him, watching him struggle with the cuff.

" I can." I offer.

Chris backs up with a sigh and gives me room.

I seize the metal cuff and snap it like a twig with just a flick of my wrist. I repeat the process for the remaining three cuffs.

" There. She's all free to go now."

" No. I'm afraid she's hurt pretty badly." Chris shakes his head. " She's already lost too much blood."

I spot Rebecca's medi-pack laying propped against the corner and quickly retrieve it. " She must have something that could help in here."

I pry open the little read and white medical bag and dig around. My hand closes around a promising bottle, and I pull up a jar of hemostat. Bingo! Hemostat stops bleeding.

" Hemostat." I toss the bottle to Chris, " You work on fixing her up, I'll find something to bandage her with."

Chris nods, his expression grave. " Deal."

I search the bag until I find some bandages. They are relatively small, but they should work.

Bandages in hand, I lean over Rebecca and grab a hemostat-treated arm.

Let's see…I remember hearing that bandages should be tight to discourage bleeding, but not so tight that they cut off circulation. I tie one end of the bandage around her arm and wrap the rest of the wound in true medic-fashion. It's probably not professional, but it'll work.

Chris's sudden comment makes me jump, " That dirty sonuva…he lacerated her liver. The hemostat will slow the bleeding, but it won't heal the wound. She's going to die."

I peer over and look into the wound Chris is pointing to. 

He's right. The wound is deep. Rebecca does not have too much longer. Unless…

" No. She won't." I declare suddenly.

Chris's face lights up. " You mean, you know a way to save her? "

" Maybe." I nod, " Do you happen to have a switchblade? "

He is skeptical, " Yes but…what good would…"

I hold out my hand. " You want to save her? Give now, ask questions later."

" Okay." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fanciful switchblade.

Once it is in my hand, I deploy the blade and slash my wrist open.

It stings only a little. " Listen to me, you need to hold open her wound so I can drip a few drops of my blood into her cut. Hurry, I heal very quickly." I keep the blade pressed into my wound at an uncomfortable angle, delaying my healing process.

Chris reaches into the sides of Rebecca's wound and holds it apart.

Carefully, I lower my bloody wrist over Rebecca's injury and allow a few drops of my special blood to drop into the wound--right onto the cut liver. The I pull away and remove the switchblade from my wrist.

Chris makes a face. " What will that…"

" Just watch." I reply.

It takes about four seconds for the lacerated liver to heal completely. Everywhere my blood has touched, tissue mends back together.

" Wow! " Chris marvels, impressed, " But what about your virus? "

I grab a cloth and wipe Chris's switchblade clean. " It will act as a disinfectant and kill any germs and other viruses. There's a reason I never get sick. Don't worry…I don't think she got anywhere near enough of it to change like me and Dad. I don't think it will hurt her." I hand the cleaned switchblade over top Chris and wipe the blood off my wrist. The wound is already closed.

" You heal even faster than Steve! " Chris notes with excitement, " Does your virus kill T-virus? "

I nod. " In a heartbeat. Watched it happen under a microscope once. The T-virus never even had a chance. That's why my father and I are immune to it. We calculated that one drop of our T-2 virused blood is sufficient to kill all of the T-virus in a fully-infected person about Rebecca's size. Don't worry, if she's got it, she's covered."

" That's wonderful! " Chris brightens, " But…if you can do that, can't you do it to heal all her cuts? "

I shake my head. " I don't think that would be a very safe idea. Too much of my blood might be fatal."

" Do you know that for sure? "

" Do _you _want to take the risk? " I ask, " I haven't experimented with this, I have no idea what it might do. Besides, virus or no, I'm not sure if we even have the same blood type."

" Don't you have Type O? That's the universal donor."

" No." I admit, " That would be my father. I have A-positive, just like my mother. Do you know Rebecca's blood type? "

Chris frowns. " Not for sure. B, I think."

" Just my point," I continue, " sorry, I would like to help her more, but I don't want her to die because of something stupid."

Chris's expression softens, and a flicker of understanding flashes through his eyes. " I see. Better safe than sorry."

" Exactly."

He gestures to Rebecca, still unconscious on the hospital bed. " We'd better hurry up and finish getting her bandaged and moved. You know, in case Wesker or the supertyrants decide to come back."

" Right." But deep down, I don't feel anywhere near like a hero.

My blood fixed Rebecca's liver, but it still might not be enough to save her. I've never used my blood on anyone else before, I really have no idea what changes it may cause. I just thought that, since it healed my wounds so quickly, it might do the same for Rebecca. And it did. I just hope it does not react violently with her system…I was unconscious when I received my T-2 virus, and Dad never told me of any prerequisites for getting the virus. Maybe something else has to be added to the blood first? Anything could happen.

It might save her.

Or it might kill her.

********************************************************************************

__

To those of you who had questions and/or nitpicks here are my answers---

****

Fahsky-- Thank you for your support and shining reviews! Yes, I know Alan and Wesker are very powerful, but that's just the impression I got from watching the movies in RE: Code Veronica X. It showed Wesker doing some really cool things…I just kinda added to it. After all, it didn't exactly say what he was and wasn't capable of. That's where my imagination came in. Same with naming their virus T-2 and HCF. It does make the story a bit more interesting, nay? That is a good detail to bring to attention, though. As for your request about "Legacy Of The Ashfords" I guess I will have to add another chapter explaining the circumstances around Alexandra's birth, won't I ? I'll post a special announcement in this story when I update that. ^^ 

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Les Enfant--Yeah, I guess I do make Wesker pretty cold, don't I? Once again, this is just a classic example of me trying to stick to the game. I did not exactly get the impression he was making with the hugs and cuddles, especially after all the things he did to S.T.A.R.S. Glad you like it though! I like Wesker as a cold bad@$$, but I do make sure that he's not like, soulless or anything. He does have a weakness where his family is concerned, and he can love and all.

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Moczo---Sharp eyes and good attention to detail in Ch. 8. You are absolutely %100 percent correct about the tyrant deal. I did notice that too. It's also that way with clothes-less zombies--anyone else ever notice that? The fact of it is: No, that did not hurt the tyrant very much at all. I don't really think they feel much pain either. But the story is from Alan's point of view, and he perceived that he hurt Tyrant. That cry of anguish? It was actually more of a cry of anger. Alan just misinterpreted it because he thought he was really hurting it. Our friend Alan has a habit of assuming, as you can see all through the story. Not all of his assumptions are correct….

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President Laguna--Aw, thank you! I'm glad you like! ^^;;

And to everyone else who's been reading, thank you! It's nice to know my hard work is being appreciated! ^_^


	19. On The Trail Of Alexis

**Chapter 19**

Minutes later, we have Rebecca all bandaged up and ready to go. Only problem is, she's still unconscious.

" I'll carry her," I offer, " Claire and Steve should be waiting in that special security room I left them in. They were so tired…"

" They're all right then? What about Claire? "

I give a dry laugh. " You're her brother all right. Always worrying about your little sister. She's fine. Apart from a couple of bruises she got in our battle with the Ashfords."

I lift Rebecca over my shoulder and start into the hall, leading the way back where I came. It is comforting to know that Dad and at least half of the supertyrants ran off in the opposite direction. They're like Brielle Cream--a little dab'll do ya.

" Your battle with the Ashfords? " Chris echoes, keeping his voice low.

" Yeah, Didn't she tell you? Alfred and Alexia together with their son Ash met up with us in the courtyard to this mansion." I frown at the memory, " I'm telling you, that was no walk in the park. Alexia does a new trick now. She can light her entire body on fire like Lady Torch. And she didn't even mutate first. I'm serious, it was like fighting a walking bonfire. We didn't happen to have a hose handy, so we had no choice but to run. Fortunately, Alexia runs about as fast as a fat slug slinking up a slippery hill. Anyone could outrun her. Even you."

" Hey! " Chris chides, " If you weren't carrying Rebecca I'd hit you right now! " But there is no anger to is tone. Unlike Barry, at least he can take a joke.

We enter the darkened room of the Frankenstein creatures.

" I can't see! " Chris complains, " It's too dark in here. "

" Sorry, but this is the fastest way I know to get to where we're going. Just grab the back of my shirt and follow me very closely. You don't want to get turned around in _this_ room."

" Really? What's in here? " Chris says, grabbing the back of my shirt.

My eyes fall once again over the hideous animal-human creatures. " Believe me, you're better off not knowing." It would take an awfully sick mind to pull off something like that. 

I lead the way safely through the room; around tables and sharp pieces of equipment otherwise invisible in the darkness.

" Alan? "

" Yes? "

" I…I'm sorry I doubted you back there. You're right: I am a bonehead. You've proven more than once that we can count on you, and I still treat you like…"

" A Wesker? " I finish.

Chris sounds embarrassed. " Yeah. You saved Rebecca's life twice in a row in there. And I know you saved mine. What do you suppose would've happened if you _hadn't _been there? I wouldn't have left Rebecca, and we both would've probably ended up dead. Once again, thank you. Though I must admit the jet circumstances were a bit suspicious…now we know who did it, I guess. Just one thing…did you know your father was going to be here before we left? "

The question freezes the blood in my veins. Oh boy, I was sure hoping he wouldn't ask that.

We start up the stairs. " Careful. Stairs here."

" Answer the question."

Gulp. This is not going to be easy. I feel like such a world-class jerk. " Honestly? Well…look, I've made some mistakes lately. I _did_ hear my father mentioning something about Africa the other night. But he didn't say what _part _of Africa. When I found out Mom and Spade were in trouble…I was a little slow on the draw, I guess. I admit, my bad. I never should have let any of you come with me. By the time I realized he was here…I guess I was too afraid to say anything. I knew what you'd think."

We climb the stairs and back into the light of a personal files room.

Chris releases my shirt. " We might not have liked it, but still…we needed to know." His words are gentle, sympathetic, " You above all else must know how dangerous your father is."

" Sorry." I mumble, " I should've been more open. And before all of this is over I'm going to have to meet with him again and get the fuses back. Even if I have to kick his sorry butt clear to China."

Chris grins. " You could actually do that? "

I shift Rebecca's position a bit--so she won't get too much pressure in one spot--and continue on.

" Well, maybe not all the way to China," I admit, " but we're pretty close in power and Dad trained me himself for five years. I know all his moves and tactics. And if there's anything my father despises--besides you--it's a fair fight. He knows there is a chance I might win."

" Eh, he didn't seem too keen on fighting Alexia that one time back in the Antarctic." Chris's voice changes, mocking my father's " _Chris, since you're one of my best men, I'll let **you** handle this_." 

I laugh. " That sounds like Dad alright. You should've heard some of the uplifting, morale-boosting things he said to me during our training." I mimic Dad's voice, " _Nice try, but if I weren't merely training you, you'd already be dead. _Or _That's pretty good…if you're fighting an old woman. _Didn't exactly do wonders for my self-esteem, if you know what I mean." 

Within minutes, we reach the security room. 

Taking the initiative, Chris taps lightly on the door. " Claire? It's me, Chris."

" Coming! " Claire's excited voice trills. She opens the door and gasps. " What happened to Rebecca? "

Chris frowns. " Wesker got her. Nearly killed her, too."

Claire backs away, leaving room for Chris and I to enter. 

" Oh man, will she be alright? " Steve worries, his expression grim.

" Hopefully." I state, " We gave her some hemostat--now all we can do is hope for the best."

Steve and Alexandra quickly scoot off the couch, and I lay an unconscious Rebecca down as gently as possible. She twitches a bit, then rolls to her side with a low moan.

" You encountered Wesker?! " Claire pipes, pressing her brother, " Where? How did you escape? "

" Down a couple floors." Chris mutters, his lips drawn into a snarl, " He wanted to finish Becca off, but Alan stopped him."

" Really? " Claire turns to me with a hero's welcome.

But I don't feel like a hero. If I had just told everyone ahead of time… " Actually," I admit, " you might say the supertyrants had a hand in it. They came at just the right time--they'd been chasing me, actually--and obviously they can't tell the difference between me and Dad. I don't think they see very well. They went off after _him_, leaving us home-free."

" So Wesker's here." Steve grumbles, shaking his head in disdain, " Because God knows, we don't already have enough things trying to kill us."

" Well, look on the bright side," I inject, finally finding something positive to point out, " If he's _here_, then he can't be hurting Jill and the kids."

That gets a smile out of Chris. " True. Even Wesker can't be in two places at once."

Claire only sighs, exhaustion and frustration doing their dirty work. " Okay. So we have Wesker,, the Ashfords, and supertyrants to deal with. Barry's already dead, half the team is still missing, and we've made absolutely zero progress finding Alan's family and or a way out. Did I forget anything? "

" Yeah." Chris points to Alexandra, standing alongside Rebecca and watching the sleeping woman's movements, " Who's she? "

Oh boy. I wonder how Chris will react?

" That's Alexandra, the um…second daughter of Alfred and Alexia. She's a lot younger than she looks, and she seems to have almost all of Alexia's powers, though on a much smaller scale…long story." I explain.

Chris blinks, processing. " Forget it. I don't even want to _know_."

Alexandra's friendly gaze meets Chris's. " Hi! Wesker's after me, too. He wants to take me away to these other people dead or alive. But if I can find my parents, I don't think he'll be able to get near me."

That reminds me… " The cure! " My sudden outburst causes the whole room to jump. I snap my fingers. " We forgot to tell him about the cure! "

" Oh yeah! " Claire beams, rubbing her hands together gleefully, " There's a cure to T-Veronica virus. Right here in Sambabwia, we think. Acid Rain probably has it…"

Chris runs a hand over his forehead. " That's nice and all, but what's it to us? Is someone infected? "

" Think about it," I say, " non-virused Alexia much better to fight than T-Veronica virused Alexia. I may be superhuman, but I'm no firefighter. You should've seen her out there, Chris. None of Dad's training prepared me for _that_."

" Speaking of which, what exactly _happened_ in that fight? " Chris crosses his arms and bites his lower lip.

" Oh, it was _awful_! " Steve complains, " Ashfords _everywhere_! And that Ash fights dirty! "

" Tell me about it." Claire seconds, rubbing her wrists, " And Alfred's no better. Though he did spend a lot of time fighting Alexis for his sniper rifle."

" That girl's something else." Steve smiles, " She refused Alexia's offer to switch sides. Too bad her mother flung her off into the thorn bushes. We haven't seen her since."

Worry wells up inside of me, and not for the first time. I don't like not knowing where Alexis is at. She's pretty tough, and the Ashfords probably aren't too likely to harm her, but what about the supertyrants? And…gulp…my father? I know in an instant that Dad would not spare her. He knows she's Alexia's daughter, and he always did view letting an enemy's offspring survive as a sign of weakness.

Plus…I think he knows that I like her. Another thing Alexis has going against her. My dad does not generally like me to have friends, and it's even worse when they're related to the enemy.

I have to reach Alexis before he does. Period. If anything were to happen to her, I'd never forgive myself.

On the couch, Rebecca stirs. " Uhhnn? Who's…? "

" Rebecca! " Chris cheers. He dashes to her side in a speed that rivals mine. " How do you feel? "

" Tired." Rebecca's eyelids droop heavily, her voice is slow and groggy. " Thirsty. Are we…is Wesker gone? "

" Don't worry, he's gone." Chris assures, " You're safe now. Just…take it easy. You're going to be okay."

Rebecca's eyelids flutter, and she attempts to sit up. " Ow!" Her attempt failed, she falls back into the sofa in a painful heap. " It hurts! Oh god, it hurts so much! "

" Hang in there." Claire soothes, " We'll take care of you."

" Mmmmnn." Rebecca's eyelids flutter to a close, and she goes back to sleep.

Poor thing. It pains me to see her in this condition.

Chris sighs. " She needs rest. Someone should stay with her while the rest of us go out to find the others."

" I'll stay." Claire volunteers, " You're the leader, Steve has super-healing, and Alan's superhuman. To put it bluntly, I'm the weakest link."

" I'll stay too! " Alexandra pipes, " And I can throw fire if I need to! "

" But…don't you want to find your parents? " Steve asks.

Alexandra nods. " Yes, but they can wait. I'd hate to leave you guys in a sticky situation. Besides, Wesker can smell the virus in my blood. I might accidentally lead him to you. I want to stay here and help Claire and Rebecca, if it's alright with everyone." 

I wink at her. " Hey, go for it. We could use all the help we can get."

Claire actually laughs. " This is so weird! Alexia has one devil of a son, but both of her daughters are good! "

" Yeah." I laugh, noting for myself the ironic twist, " That is weird. But in a good way."

" Amen to that." Chris agrees, " I like Ashfords much better when they're not trying to kill me."

I turn to go. " I hate to just rush off," I explain, " but I have to go. Alexis is in big trouble if she encounters a supertyrant or my traitorous ex-captain father."

" Ok," Chris agrees, " We meet back here in say…an hour? Just in case anything happens, we don't want to go around looking for each other until next week."

" I'm on it." With that, I am out the door in a flash of speed.

It has become a race to see who finds who in the fastest time. Alexis, Carlos, and the female half of my family have yet to be accounted for.

The halls and rooms fly by in a blur--my mind only barely processing each image, but my senses on full. Several rooms have zombies in them, and several rooms have worse than zombies in them.

However, I have no time to fight and pass them by in a frenzied speed. 

No T-virus creature can move as fast as me. Come to think of it, there are few living things that can. At this pace, it does not take me long to reach the fountain where we had our most recent Ashford battle. Here I stop and sniff the wind; taking in the faintest noise and most minute detail.

Alexia is gone--her scent still lingers thinly in the air, but not nearly with as much power as it had prior. I don't sense Ash or Alfred nearby, but then again, I do not care if they are.

Unless they somehow were to gain superpowers of their own, I should have no problem defeating them.

A hunter is in the bush. It is sneaking up on me, it thinks. Closer…closer..

I lash out with my fist in a powerful blow that connects with the roof of it's mouth when it springs out at me in full attack-mode.

" Shrraaaaiiiieee!! " With a painful squeal, the mutated frog/gorilla beast goes flying right back where it came from. If it survives, and that's a big IF, I don't think it will try attacking me again.

I shake my head. " Stupid hunters."

Daylight drenches the area, and a soft drizzle begins to fall from the sky. Most refreshing, actually. Cools things off and obstructs the sun from view.

Overhead, all is gray.

Yep. This is going to be one of those days where it does nothing but rain all day long, leaving the land in a dim daylight. Not that I mind--bright sunlight hurts my eyes.

" Alexis? " I call softly, not wishing to attract bad attention.

I strain to hear an answer. There is none.

I gaze off into the direction I last saw her go flying. The obvious thing to do is to reenact the scene and jump off into the briars. Alexis is bound to have made some type of a path through the thorns in her effort to get away, probably even leaving a trail of blood. To me, blood on thorns coupled with a trodden path is as good as neon arrows pointing the way.

Tensing the muscles in my legs and judging the distance, I leap with the fluid grace of a big cat pouncing onto it's prey.

I land about fifty feet into the brambles--in the exact spot as Alexis. I smell her blood everywhere and see tiny stains of red coloring the otherwise brown-green of the thorns.

There is some disturbance in the brambles off to my side, and I follow, grimacing as the sharp thorns prick my skin.

It's not that they hurt much, really--indeed, I barely feel them at all, and the cuts heal within seconds--but I don't like leaving a trail of my blood lying around for other super beings to find. The scent of T-2 virus is much more powerful and overwhelming than the scent of normal blood or even T and G viruses.

As I trek on, hot on Alexis's trail, I am aware that I am leaving my own invite to trouble.

I follow the trail of broken brambles and blood through endless twists and turns until it abruptly stops at the outer edge of the briars.

A large metal structure bearing a single door protrudes from the ground in a clearing not more than twenty feet in front of me. Behind it and to either side is nothing but a sea of thorns, save a very clean-shaven path cut through one side of the hedge.

However, Alexis's blood has dripped onto the ground leading towards the door, so that is the way I will go.

I hope she is alright--those thorns must've scratched her up pretty good.

Not to my surprise, the metal door comes open easily when I try it.

I sniff the air inside.

Yes, she's been this way alright.

Stairs descend downwards into darkness for several feet with a faint light at the bottom.

I follow them down into a dank, cold, stone room that looks like it was built eons ago. There are two doors: one directly in front of me, and one to my left. Both are drab and rusty pieces of metal, but I hear breathing coming from behind the door in front of me.

Quietly, so as not to disturb whoever's on the other side, I sneak up on the door and, in one swift motion, jerk it open. 


	20. The Forbidden

**Chapter 20**

There is a startled cry and a bright red dot appears on my chest. 

I find myself looking straight down the barrel of Alexis's sniper rifle.

" Sorry, I didn't know that was you." Alexis says from the other end of the rifle, lowering it as she speaks.

She's alright! " Alexis! "

Alexis's sullen expression transforms into a cheerful smile. " I'm happy to see you too! Considering all the nasties out there…this is not a good area to be alone in, if you know what I mean."

I know exactly what she means.

She's a mess. Her blonde hair is disheveled and full of briars and twigs, her clothes are torn in places, and dried blood clings to her arms, face, and other areas of exposed skin where thorns have left their mark. Surprisingly, she has very few cuts on her face.

As if sensing my eyes on her, she looks down at her clothes and scowls. Leaning against the single stone sarcophagus highlighting the center of the room, she begins brushing thorns and debris out of her outfit with one hand while balancing her sniper rifle in the other.

I have to laugh. " It's okay, it's not like we're going out to dinner or anything. You've been tossed into a briar patch, you're bound to pick up a few thorns."

Alexis straightens and sighs, the faintest hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. " You're right. I suppose we can't help but to get dirty doing dirty work." Her lips twist, and her pretty blue eyes flicker over me. " Heh, you don't look like a prize yourself right now."

She's right. One glance at my bloody, ripped-in-places black shirt, and I just can't deny it. I'd be afraid to look in a mirror right now. Afraid of what I might see.

Alexis sits down on the stone sarcophagus in the center of this rather small, dimly-lit room, and I join her.

I have no clue as to who's tomb I am sitting on, and I don't really care. Whoever they were, they're long gone now.

Aside from the sarcophagus and the door I entered through, there is one newer-looking metal door engraved with a hawk grasping a halberd--the famous Ashford emblem. 

Or, as my father calls it--the emblem of insanity.

I am still studying it; wondering what connection the Ashfords have in Africa and why my friends and I seem to have such bad luck stumbling into their bases all the time, when a slight movement from Alexis causes me to jump.

Setting her sniper rifle across her lap, Alexis turns to me with a fake smile. " Now I know what Cinderella felt like with her wicked stepmother." She laughs, trying not to sound as upset as she undoubtedly is, " I think I have it worse than Cinderella, actually. Her stepmother may have treated her like a slave, but at least she wasn't a murderess." She pauses for a moment, shaking her head. " I felt the coldness around her, saw the hatred in her eyes. Alan, I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to get through to her…after all, she helped in the murder of her own father…can a person like that ever truly love anything? "

She is trying to be strong--keeping her tone light in an attempt to hide her pain. But it is an amateur performance, and not one that fools me.

She really does want to try and help her family. She truly believed in them. To have such diehard faith like that…and to question it all now…to say it must be hard on her would be an understatement. I can only imagine what she must be going through.

What to say? My dad may be bad, but in all fairness I know he loves me. He's proven it more than once. But Alexia…that's another matter.

So far, I have seen nor heard anything supporting the idea that Alexia cares for anyone. Certainly not Alexis. She did abandon her, after all. And she made no visible effort to check and see if her daughter was even still alive; you know, some little sign that she cared? Alexia should never have been a mother.

I feel bad for Alexis, abandoned by her own family.

I can only imagine what that must be like--mine never abandoned me. Something I have to be thankful for, I guess.

I shake my head and cast my eyes to the floor, watch a bug skittering across the cracks in the stone.

" I don't know." I confess.

It is the truth, and all I can think of to say.

" Why was I even born? " Alexis's voice is both frustrated and solemn all at once-- she is not pretending anymore, " Why was Ash born? What did she want with us? Did she ever love us? What happened to her make her so…cruel? "

I bite down on my lower lip. " I wish I knew."

Alexis sighs in response. " Well, this isn't solving anything. What have you been up to? "

It occurs to me that Alexis still doesn't know that Alexandra is her sister. Nor does she know about the cure to T-Veronica virus…I look up and catch her eye. " Big news. Alexandra is your sister."

Alexis stares at me like I just told her I'd decided to shave my head bald and take up tap dancing.

" My sister? I knew she kinda looked like me! I feel sorry for her already with my oh-so-caring family raising her." She shakes her head.

" She has T-Veronica virus, too." I add, " That's why she appears to be much older than she really is. She can throw fire and everything."

Alexis seems absorbed in watching a little white candle burning on the far wall. " Where is she now? Where is _everyone_, come to think of it? "

" Long story. The main gist of it is that Barry died from a combination of a big bird and a sharp spear, and Steve, Claire, Rebecca, Chris, and your sister are all up in one room in the mansion. I'm supposed to meet with them again in--I'd say forty minutes, now. My dad is here…he tortured Rebecca, but she's okay now. She's resting. Also…there is a cure for the T-Veronica virus."

" Sounds like a lot has been happening." Alexis turns back to me, her eyes abandoning the candle, " A cure to the T-Veronica virus? Where? "

I frown. " I wouldn't swear to it, but I think Acid Rain. At least, that's what the papers we found indicated."

Alexis gets up and stretches. " Sure would be nice to find that. But now that we've caught up…I've been trying to get through this door." She points her sniper rife in the direction of the Ashford-emblem door, " I feel it has some significance, but it won't let me in."

" Let me see." I follow Alexis over to the door and quickly note that the eye to the hawk is nothing but an empty indentation into the stone in which tiny wires as thin as a strand of hair crisscross. It looks like the perfect spot for a gem.

Alexis eyes the emblem distastefully and tries the handle.

" Access denied."

I almost leap through the roof at the sound of a computerized female voice booming from some hidden device just beyond the door.

" Only Ashford access permitted in these premises."

" I'm an Ashford! " Alexis tries, " Alexis Ashford! Just open the sodding door! " She turns to me; a most mischievous, playful expression on her face. " See what I mean? Stupid door doesn't even know an Ashford when it sees one."

" Alexis, I don't think it can really see anything," I point out lightly, getting over the initial shock of a piece of technology down in a tomb that looks like it came straight out of the eighteenth century, " I think you need a gem to get in. See the hawk's eye? That's usually the way it is with Umbrella facilities." I trace a finger along the smooth surface of the indentation.

Alexis shakes her head. " I am under the impression that my family doesn't like to do things the easy way. Gems? Why not just a card reader like normal limited-access rooms? "

I shrug. " Ashford logic. You'd be better in that department than me."

" We could try smashing the door down." Alexis returns playfully, " You'd be better in that department than me."

I cock an eyebrow and Alexis grins, reminding me of a playful kitten. She sure switched moods fast.

Not that I'm complaining--it's nice to see her hopeful and optimistic.

I nod, returning her grin. Balling my fist, I aim at the door handle. " Is that your final answer? "

Alexis backs away. " Go for it. "

I ram my fist into the door handle and smash it in a horrendous crunch of metal. Then I twist the sad remnants of the handle, and the door surrenders in a mournful creak.

Light pours in, the source being bright electrical bulbs hanging from an elegant fixture on the ceiling of a small fanciful room. Plush burgundy carpeting on the floor, and huge portraits of Alfred and Alexia adorn the left and right walls of the tiny room.

The portraits are very-well detailed; the artist had talent. And aside fro looking fairly recent, the paint smells fresh. Both Ashfords are standing in haughty, stuck-up poses--big surprise.

The wall directly in front of us is blank, save a small marble protrusion from the wall under a golden plaque that reads: **_'The pride and legacy of the Ashford twins._**' Other than that, it appears to be a dead end.

The whole area isn't much bigger than the average closet. The light must've been activated by the opening of the door.

Stepping in front of me, Alexis studies the portraits. " Yep. That's my parents alright. They're frowning in every picture I ever see of them."

" It's probably a good thing," I state, " I'd hate to see what would make them smile."

She turns, reading the plaque. " Pride and legacy of the Ashford twins? What the heck is that supposed to mean? "

I swat a mosquito before it has a chance to land on me. " I have no idea."

This place is giving me the creeps. Not an easy thing to do, considering all I've dealt with. Something about the whole atmosphere…it's like we're all nothing but pawns in someone else's game. Not an encouraging thought. I don't like not being in control. Then again, is there anyone who does?

I pluck a thorn from it's nest in Alexis's hair, and she barely notices. 

" There's a tiny circle here. What could that be for? "

I press by to her left and notice a circle about the size of a dime carved into the marble column. Just beneath it is the faint hum of electricity. Another puzzle. Good lord, don't the Ashfords ever get tired of these?

" Perhaps another gem? " I suggest, " Or maybe a coin? "

Alexis spins around, defeated. " Ok, I have had about enough of these crazy puzzles." She heads out of the room, " What do you say we just find everyone and get out of here? With me? "

That is the best idea I've heard in a long time. " All the way." I agree. 

I follow her out of the Ashford room and back the way we came.

At least we've been making a _little _progress. We're slowly finding everyone. Now I just need to find my family and a good escape route out of this African nightmare. Maybe blow the place up to boot, stop the infection from spreading.

However, I hear trouble the instant we enter the main entrance with the stairs leading up.

Heavy, thunderous footsteps coupled with the skritching of talons on stone signify the arrival of one of the supertyrants I have come to know and hate. It must have picked up the scent of my blood--cursed thorns.

I am so sick of these things I could just scream!

Too late to run for cover…I slip into a fighting stance, prepared to defend Alexis. Once she is safe, I'll worry about getting away myself.

Supertyrant makes it down the stairs in a speed I wouldn'tve thought possible and kneels down.

_What?! _This is new.

" I see you have caught the Wesker, most exalted one. Congratulations."

Now I get it…Alexia! The supertyrant thinks Alexis is Alexia!

Alexis turns to me and winks, catching on quickly. She grabs my throat with one hand and jabs the sniper rifle into my side with the other. 

I don't mind. I doesn't hurt, and I enjoy the her touch--the coolness of her hand on my throat. It's all so…exhilarating.

Nevertheless, I force myself to frown. If this supertyrant here has half a brain--and we'd be safer assuming he did--it would look awfully cheesy and unconvincing if I had a big grin on my face.

I watch Alexis struggle with a frown of her own. She twists her lips down into an angry line, but her eyes betray her and she looks like she's on the verge of cracking up.

I bite my lower lip and twist my expression into what I hope resembles a snarl.

Alexis turns her head away quickly, a smile overtaking her.

I do hope Mr. Supertyrant is a sucker and buys. If he thinks he's dealing with Alexia, he may let some important information slip.

" Oh, thanks. I'm going to strangle this loser! " Alexis tightens her grip and pretends to throttle me.

Thankfully, supertyrant was staring at the floor almost the whole time. Finally, he rises--a mountain of scaly-green ugliness with a face not even a mother could love. " Do you wish to hear my report, Miss Alexia? "

Alexis stares at the supertyrant, but their eyes do not meet. He seems to be more interested in the ground.

_Gee, is it that interesting? _I feel tempted to say. Alexia must really frighten these guys if they try to avoid eye contact. 

" Fire away, you puny insignificant worm! " Alexis growls with phony anger.

Supertyrant doesn't so much as flinch. " Killer and Bruiser have captured the one called 'Carlos'. They are down in the secret place. Shall we commence with phase three of the plan? "

Phase Three?

Alexis jabs the rifle into my ribs a little harder, and I wriggle a bit. Not a comfortable position.

" Say what now? " Alexis asks, forgetting to keep her tone snobby and rude. 

I nudge her a bit with my elbow in a gesture that I hope will remind her to stay more in character. Alexia is not the type who asks many questions. At least, not from my experience with her.

" Phase Three." Supertyrant grumbles, reaching up with one taloned finger to scratch behind a horn, " Shall we commence? "

Gulp. We don't even know what Phase Three is. I wonder how good Alexis's acting skills are?

Alexis glares at the creature, and when she speaks her tone is an annoyed one. " Phase Three? You vile maggot, we're switching plans! Leave the worthless Carlos alone and tell the others to gather on the northern edge of the town immediately! There I will update you with the new plans. And don't hurt Carlos, or I will kill you all horribly. It is vital to my plan! Now get out of here, worm, before I decide to cook you up extra-crispy! "

Supertyrant turns and heads up the stairs quickly. " As you wish, your excellence. It seems questionable to me, but you are the genius. I will tell the others immediately."

We wait for the giant monster to finish ambling up the stairs, then Alexis releases me and moves her rifle from my guts.

" Phew! That was a close one! " She snickers quietly, " Nice acting, by the way. Tell me, would you really be that placid in my mother's grip? I swear, you looked like you enjoyed it! " 

" Yeah? " I comeback, overcome by the sheer silliness of it, " You were too friendly! Come on, you were supposed to be killing me, not cuddling me! "

Alexis pokes me in the ribs good-naturedly with the end of her sniper rifle. " Hey, I growled, didn't I? That dummy totally bought! "

" Maybe he wouldn't have if he would've actually _looked _at you. Come on, you were so totally ready to lose it."

Alexis sticks her nose up at me. " Well, maybe that was because you were making funny faces. I've had My Little Ponies who looked more vicious than you! "

I can't help but to laugh. This is insane!

Using two fingers, I grab the barrel of the sniper rifle and point it away from me.

" You need to work on your evil Ashford persona. You know what? We are really lucky that Mr. Supertyrant was such an oblivious blockhead. Can you just see us? If we were on stage, I think that would've been a tomato performance."

Alexis lowers her rifle to her side and grins. " I think you're right. I suck at being evil. And the day the phrase _'black sheep of the family' _was coined…" She doesn't finish her sentence. Instead, she locks eyes with me.

I smile, and she goes into a fit of giggles. " God, I wish we had a mirror right now! You look so funny! "

" What? Why? "

Alexis shakes her head, her face beginning to turn red, and I wonder if I have something on my face.

" Oh, nevermind! We really should be getting on with our mission instead of just standing here. Our teammates could be in very real danger, and we're just goofing off like a couple of clowns making faces at each other." Alexis puts a hand to her face, covering her eyes with her fingers and laughing all the harder.

" I wonder what Chris would say? " I snicker.

That would be one for the quote books. And just exactly what are we laughing at, anyway? We're down in a crypt in the middle of a viral ground zero with supertyrants, monsters, and other baddies on the loose. We have yet to find the rest of the team, my family, or a way out of here, and our families want to kill each other.

Har-har, big laugh. We should be on Comedy Central.

But my mood is picking up…sometimes people need a good laugh. 

Despite the fact that there is nothing to laugh at but the two of us standing around laughing. My God, we must be going insane!

Gently, I grab Alexis's hand and pull it away from her face.

Our eyes meet.

She sobers up, and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. The flames of the candles flicker in her eyes, and I am spellbound.

Before I know it, our lips meet.

Who started the kiss, me or her? Does it matter?

For a moment, the rest of the world ceases. There are no zombies. No supertyrants. No evil parents or rampant viruses.

It's just me and her. Kissing.

She pulls away abruptly, leaving her taste on my lips.

" Seriously, we should get going now." She says, turning away, " They're going to wonder what happened to us." Her voice is more serious now, but still with a gentleness to it.

She's right. Focus on the mission at hand. We mustn't allow ourselves to become…distracted. 


	21. Weskers and Ashfords

****

**Chapter 21**

We turn to the stairs that will lead us back up into daylight. That's when I see something that freezes all the blood in my veins.

Dad. Standing right on the stairs, almost completely down in the room with us. His eyes burn red beneath his snappy shades, and expression is sour. He does not look happy. In fact, he looks downright angry.

I swallow nervously, and Alexis backs into me.

" Dad! I didn't hear you come in! " I blurt, stepping slightly I front of Alexis. He's going to have to get through me to get to her. And I have no intention of making that easy for him.

Dad's expression hardens. " Maybe you would have, if you hadn't been busy kissing that Ashford! That sniveling supertyrant may have been a blockhead, but I'm not. I know what I saw. And I know what I heard. It ends now."

" Why are you angry with me? " Alexis wonders, " I've never done anything to you! "

Dad glares at her, unmoved.

I tense up. It's coming this time: the fight. Why didn't I pay more attention? Why didn't I just leave after finding Alexis? 

I swear, this is like my Friday the 13th. One thing after another.

At least Dad is not a supertyrant--I'll hold him off until Alexis has escaped, then I'll follow.

" I'm sorry Dear, but you have to be eliminated. Nothing personal, but Weskers and Ashfords don't mix. My son can do better than you."

I don't dare take my eyes off my father, searching for the faintest indication of movement.

" I never thought I'd say this," Alexis says, " but I wish my mother was here."

" I wish your mom was here too." I agree. To Dad I say, " Who I spend my time with is _my _business."

Dad stands dangerously still. Then he stares straight into my eyes. Red-and-yellow on red-and-yellow.

For a fraction of a second, I see something other than anger there. Regret.

It startles me so much that his next move almost catches me unprepared.

" Sorry Alan. You'll thank me for this someday." He charges.

I am a flash of lightning, ramming into him and blocking his path to Alexis. Yep. This is the big banana. This is the fight that counts.

" Alexis run! Get out of here! " I yell, grabbing Dad by the arm.

I really wish it didn't have to be this way. Most fathers would be just try to be happy for their sons. Not my dad.

Dad pushes back, and I struggle to hold my ground. " Sorry Son," he huffs, " but you are really starting to be a pain in the ass."

" Why? Because I don't do everything _your_ way? " I spit, reaching out and slapping the shades off his face.

Dad doesn't like this. He stomps my foot and uses the distraction to fling me into the wall. I recover quickly, the faintest sensation of pain tingling up my spine. But Dad has already anticipated this: he knows I will not go down so easily. He is there in a flash, grabbing my arm and twisting it downward at a painful angle. He wants to break it; to slow me down so I will be out of commission when he does his dirty work.

Not going to happen. I lash out with my right foot and trip his legs out from under him. He falls on his but, pulling me down with him.

" You are taking this way too personally! " He growls, " I'm just looking out for your best interest."

" No, you're just trying to control my life." I retort, dodging a blow aimed for my face. 

But I am in an awkward position, and he uses this to his advantage--yanking down hard on my arm. I try to resist, but it's no use; I don't have a good enough purchase on the floor and my feet slide out from underneath me. 

I catch sight of Alexis' lithe form fleeing up the stairs before my face smashes the ground. _Good, at least she will make it. _I think.

Just gotta keep Dad busy…he starts to rise. Can't have that.

Gathering my legs beneath me, I act like I plan to spring up, knowing how he will most likely retaliate. At the last moment, I change my course and leap into him instead of straight up, and the tactic works like a charm. My fist connects with his stomach. He slams backwards into the stone sarcophagus with enough force to crack it. It won't slow him down for more than two seconds, but it will give me a chance to get away.

Turning on a dime, I zip off and practically fly up the stairs. I'm going to have to be quick. My eyes are scanning the terrain the second I hit sunlight.

" Alexis? " I call.

She startles me by suddenly appearing to my side.

" What are you doing? " I ask. Why isn't she running? I know I would be in her predicament.

" I just wanted to make sure you were going to be ok." She says innocently.

" It's not me you have to worry about." I am about to pick her up and run off when something hard rams my back. I lurch forward, a one-way trip straight into the briar patch. The thorns prick my skin like so many pushpins--the scent of my own blood fills my nostrils.

But this is not the time to be resting in the thorns.

Having butted me out of the way, Dad turns to Alexis. But he will not have time to do anything, oh no.

I regain my footing, ignoring the bite of the thorns.

Alexis begins to raise her rifle…I launch out of the brambles and hit the ground running.

Dad streaks forward, prepared to deliver her a fatal blow…I am at a loss to explain how I move so fast--I have never been able to catch up with my father so quickly. My hand darts out and delivers my father a grazing blow, screwing up his course and his aim.

He stops inches short of his own encounter with the briars.

Alexis levels her rifle and aims: for his legs, it looks like. She pulls the trigger, but she was too excited and the bullet goes wide.

Far from amused, Dad spins around and launches himself into the air. I know instantly what he plans to do. And he is fast.

But I see everything as if it were happening in slow motion. Grabbing Alexis by the arm, I dive aside and Dad's fist hits the ground; sending up chunks of dirt and debris in it's wake and leaving a crater more than a foot deep. The blow was intended for Alexis, and had it hit her, it would've smashed her ribs right through her heart.

His diving punch failed, Dad begins to turn back around…I can't keep this insanity up. Even if I were to run at full speed with Alexis, I would never be able to outdistance him.

Where's a supertyrant when you really need one?

I catch Alexis's eye. " Run." I state flatly, pitching my voice as serious as possible, " I'll be alright."

I can tell that she does not want to leave me, but as long as she stays here she is in very real danger. At least I know my dad will not _kill _me.

Thankfully, she complies. With one last worried glance, she makes a break for the path shaven through the thorns.

I zip into Dad, catching his arms in mine. He shoves. I shove back. It is almost like an arm-wrestling contest to see who will give first. 

I dig my feet into the dirt, determined not to lose ground.

" It doesn't have to be this way." Dad announces calmly.

" I know," I mutter darkly, " You can take a hike out of my life."

He laughs cruelly. I am funny, he thinks. " Do you really want that? We're family."

" Must you remind me? "

Without warning, Dad thrashes violently to the side, using his entire body to throw me to the ground. I see his hand dive for his pocket and emerge again with a very sharp-looking injection needle filled with a brownish fluid I am not familiar with.

" Sorry." He stabs for my arm.

Just as quickly, I bring both hands up and catch his arm; the tip of the needle poised inches above my chest.

" What is that stuff? " I ask, though I have a strong feeling that it is something that will not do me good. Dad is an expert with powerful drugs and solutions. After all, he did major in science.

Looking at the liquid now, I regret that my knowledge in such matters is lacking. Which stands to reason--I had no plans in competing in the fields of genetics and bio-engineering. Yay me.

The needle inches closer to my chest, and it takes a good deal of my strength just to keep it from piercing my flesh.

I was right about us being close in power…unfortunately, it seems Dad is maybe just a tad stronger--or maybe it is just because I am laying on my back pushing up while Dad is poised above me and gets to use his weight to his advantage that I perceive it this way.

Yet there is no hatred or evilness in Dad's eyes, only regret. And his expression is kinda sad. He really does believe he is doing what's best for me.

" This? " He answers at last, " Just a little something I whipped up in the labs. It won't hurt you, but it will make you easier to manage."

I don't like the sound of that. I bring my knee up into his gut--hard--and he grunts in discomfort but does not loosen his grip. I am about to repeat the procedure when it suddenly becomes very easy to push the needle away.

_What? _I barely have time to process before the needle is at my side, piercing my right shoulder. I realize that he jerked it towards himself on purpose then used the ensuing moment to strike. 

Worked perfectly.

Muttering a curse, I slap the needle aside before much of the brown solution can enter my system. 

The syringe goes flying with the force of being shot out of a gun. I do not look to see where it will land, but I know it will probably be half a mile away.

" What did you do to me? " I hiss, boxing Dad in the jaw.

Dad doesn't answer. Instead, he grabs my wrists and squeezes.

My strength begins to drain.

He pins me down, sitting on my legs and holding my hands to either side of my head.

Briefly, I recall that this is the same position he used to hold me in for 'tickle bug' when I was only three or four years old. Turns out I was very ticklish under the arms. Both Mom and Dad used to enjoy holding me down and giving me a good tickle. Then I'd try to tickle them, and we'd all have a good laugh.

Strange the things you remember from early childhood years down the line. Especially in such trying circumstances.

I feel the drug affecting me--draining my powers, dimming my eyesight, dulling my hearing…slowing my reflexes.

That's when I hear it--the faint whiz of a bullet with a silencer.

" Ow! " Dad cries out, the bullet catching him in the behind. He leaps off me, rubbing his rear and cursing.

I actually find it kinda funny, being shot in the tush!

Then I see the source of the bullet: Alexis! She is standing about halfway down the path with her sniper rifle raised and pointed at my father.

Dad gives her a dirty look, then charges.

Alexis pulls the trigger at the same time. 

Dad is quick, but he is not quicker than a bullet. He swears loudly when it catches him in the thigh.

Slowly. Much too slowly, I stagger up. 

Whatever it was, the brown fluid did a real number on my sense of balance.

I really hate science; now what am I supposed to do? I am weak and uncoordinated. All in all, I feel like a drunk kitten. 

Not that that's going to stop me from trying…

Alexis prepares to fire another round. It does no good--my dad veers and she misses. Despite being shot twice, he still moves incredibly fast. It is only a matter of seconds before he has her.

No! I can't let that happen! I try to run to her aid…two steps and I fall flat on my face. Ugh. I have all the reflexes of a drunkard.

For a split second, time freezes. I can see it all flashing before my eyes as if it were really happening: Dad hitting Alexis, breaking her neck. Or would he do it slowly, torture her in front of me while I am helpless to act? Would he really be that cruel? 

I don't know, but his track record does not exactly inspire confidence my confidence. I feel like a stupefied spectator to a Roman-style death-match.

My footing comes slightly easier than last time. I have to stop him. I have to at least try… " Dad! Wait! " I call.

Maybe I can talk him out of it. Maybe I can make him realize that killing Alexis is _not _looking out for me. 

But I do not get my hopes up. When Dad wants to kill someone, they generally get killed.

What can I say? Dad is not a very reasonable man.

Just as I'd expected--and feared--he totally ignores me and zips towards Alexis…and I can do nothing but watch.

I stumble forward…a crawl. That's what I'm going at: a slow-as-molasses crawl.

I'll never make it there in time!

Without warning, a fireball rockets forth and catches Dad square in the stomach, sending him backwards.

Alexia leaps onto the scene in a fiery blaze. 

Alfred and Ash round the corner of thorns and place themselves in front of Alexis.

" You stay the hell away from my daughter! " Alfred hisses.

The Ashfords are here! Great! They'll protect Alexis!

Wait a minute, what am I thinking? Alexia's here and I'm _happy _about that? That's great for Alexis and all, but it's _really bad _for me.

I could be whipped by Ash. He wouldn't even need a weapon.

Well, since I know that Alexis is safe, I would be smart to turn and flee for my life. I start for the only shelter I know: the crypt. It is embarrassing how slow I move. I could lose a race to a turtle. Unless the Ashfords decide to chase after me in baby steps, I probably will not make it far.

Well, maybe Dad will learn his lesson. If I die, it will be because of him and his ingenious drunk/weak/sloth formula. I hate to even think what my tombstone would say.

Or would the Ashfords even bury me? No. There is no doubt in my mind that they would preserve my body for examination and study my virus in one of their little labs. At the very least, they'd take a sample of my blood. Ashfords are like that. They can't stand it when they don't know something, and T-2 virus is foreign to them.

Behind me, chaos ensues.

Something very cold touches my arm. Odd, there is nothing there. Why does only a tiny spot on my arm feel like it is wearing an ice-pack? Is this another effect of that abominable brown fluid?

" Why won't you Ashfords ever die? " I hear my dad curse from somewhere in the fray. I do not turn back to see how he is faring. He's a lot better off than I'm going to be in a minute.

" Us? Why won't you Weskers ever die? " Ash snarls, acting like the tough guy he thinks he is. He would not be so cocky if Mommy wasn't there.

A sudden blast of cold air chills my face. I don't feel a breeze, but it is like I am walking into a refrigerator. 

What is the deal here?

I move slightly to the left, and it is warm again. 

Huh? Does the weirdness ever stop around here? 

Only a small area is cold, the rest is all the normal temperature. Okay, how is that even possible? 

All of a sudden, something rams me from behind with the force of a truck. I fall forward, and the ground opens up in front of me.

" Oh goody." I curse as I fall into the yawning pit.

********************************************************************************

****

A/N: By the way, I have updated "Legacy of the Ashfords". ^^;; 


	22. Chance Of Reasoning

**Chapter 22**

The dust settles around me in a haze. Overhead, the warm rays of the sunlight trickle down several feet to the dirt floor I now lay on.

Ouch.

How far did I fall? Feels like a mile. I find myself looking up at the mouth of the pit a good forty or fifty feet overhead. An easy jump…if I weren't so weakened.

Whatever else that liquid did, I know for a fact that only a small dose of it was sufficient enough to quell the effects of my virus. I wonder what would have happened had more gotten into my bloodstream?

Overhead, the sounds of a scuffle…but distant, as if far away. I can't even make out the voices.

My head throbs. When I sit up, I notice my arms are scuffed up and bruised. Something warm trickles down my face. I wipe a hand to my forehead and it comes away bloody. I don not need a mirror to know that I am a mess.

_Gee, _I think sarcastically, _aren't I ready for a special occasion? _

Where am I, anyway?

Pulling myself to my feet, I notice a large door made of solid rock in front of me. It is covered with strange markings and symbols I have never seen before. Behind me, and to either side, is nothing but al lot of earth and splintered wood that fell with me when I took the dive. This was obviously either a mine shaft or secret underground tunnel.

Again, I study the markings on the door, as if looking at them a second time will somehow reveal their mysteries to me. 

Nope. Just as alien as the first time. Whoever wrote this, English was not their native tongue. I trace a finger over one of the weirdest symbols, thinking maybe it is Japanese. 

Oh boy. My Foreign Languages teacher _told_ me I'd regret zoning off in class, why didn't I listen to him? For all I know, this could say 'doorway to direct-drop lava pit' and then I would be in trouble if I got it open.

Heaving a sigh, I push against the big rock. I might as well be trying to budge a 200-ton beached whale. Without my super-strength, I know better than to try hitting it. So what does that leave?

I examine the creases in the stone, looking for any telltale sign of a keyhole or something. That's when a Coldness touches my shoulder, sending shivers up and down my spine. I spin around, and am in for a surprise. 

Another man is down here; all pale and ghostlike. I can see right through him!

Suddenly, every horrible ghost story I remember comes back to me, magnifying my fears. 

A ghost! An actual _ghost_! I had never really believed in ghosts before, but it's hard to deny what is right in front of my eyes. That would explain the sudden chills, too. When a ghost is around, the air around them is always very cold. Or so the stories say. Happens to be true. 

Pressing my back against the rough coldness of the symbol door, I try to hide the fact that I'm almost trembling. Why I am so afraid, I honestly don't know.

I've seen monsters before. I've _laughed _at monsters. I throw hunters and tyrants around like rag dolls.

But show me a ghost, and I go all Brad Vickers. Whether it's their fog-like appearance or their being-dead-ness, there's just something about spirits that makes me want to weasel out.

The ghost smiles, happy to have scared me practically to death. Broadly built and Hispanic in addition to his wispy, fog-white appearance, he is not someone I am familiar with. I watch his vaporous eyes sweep over me, probably deciding how I'd look as a fellow ghost.

" Wh…what do you want? " I stammer, trying to keep my voice steady.

When he laughs it is a familiar sound. " Alan, don't you recognize me? I'm heartbroken."

" Recognize you? I've…" The voice. Right after I woke up from my fight with Mauler, and right after my encounter with super-Barry, I'd heard a voice but seen no-one. And this phantom's voice matches it perfectly. " You're the voice that's been helping me! " I gasp.

The ghost nods, but looks a bit put out. " True. But…don't you recognize me? "

I shake my head. " No. Should I? "

The ghost slaps a misty hand to his face and sighs. " Here, let me give you a hint. Pull out your beretta."

I reach down into my ankle-holster and am surprised to find my gun still in place. I've been knocked around so many times I was sure I'd lost it. Then again, I never really can seem to lose this gun. I hold it up, examining it. This is a hint?

" What do you notice about it? " The ghost asks, sounding slightly annoyed--like I should have figured it out a long time ago.

I shrug. " 9mm, custom. It says S.T.A.R.S."

The ghost nods. " Very good. I was killed with that very gun."

It is as if a light goes on inside my head. S.T.A.R.S., gun, familiar voice…I drop the gun like it were poison. " Enrico! " I gasp, " You're Enrico Marini! "

His face lights up with a smile. " Bingo. And you get bonus points for remembering my last name."

No wonder I did not recognize him right off--the last time I saw him was about eight years ago, and then I only saw him on rare occasion. We had a few laughs, sure. But time can dim the memory. I could've sworn he was a lot taller.

" I'm sorry my dad killed you! " I blurt without thinking. Great. Didn't that come out well? He will probably think I'm an idiot.

Enrico shakes his head, glaring daggers at the hated gun. " Yeah, that did suck. And to think I ever could have trusted him…you just don't know what it's like to be leaking your guts out alone down in an underground chamber so hurt you can barely move, knowing any second a monster could come by and finish you off before you even get a chance to say goodbye to everyone, to tell the rest of your team that your leader is a back-stabbing traitor who wants to get them all killed. Wesker shot me while I was trying to warn Jill and the others about him. Cold-hearted rat. I had so much unfinished business that my soul cannot yet rest in peace. For the time being, I am earthbound."

" Until when? " I ask, my nerves much calmer now that I know who I am dealing with, " Until someone avenges you? "

Enrico shakes his head. " Good guess, but no. I figure sooner or later your father will get exactly what he deserves. Anyway…I'll tell you later. It takes a lot of energy for me to manifest myself like this so I can't stay long…"

" Alan, are you okay? " Dad's voice calls from overhead.

I look up and see him hovering over the hole I fell into, staring down at me.

Enrico notices him, too. 

" Um…yeah. I'll live." I answer.

" Glad to hear that." Dad sounds relieved, " It's pretty quiet up here now…the Ashfords are gone."

" Just look at the traitor," Enrico huffs, " Too bad Alexia didn't tear off his arm! I don't have much time to…"

" Enrico, just a sec." I say.

" Who are you talking to? " Dad wonders, " Did I just hear you mention Enrico? " 

Oops.

Enrico gives me a funny look. " Alan, you're the only one who can see or hear me."

My vision is dim compared to what I am used to, so I cannot see my dad's expression. However, I'd be willing to bet money that it is a very worried one.

" Enrico. " Dad repeats when I don't answer, " You must've hit your head pretty hard. Your virus is neutralized, but it should only last for a few more minutes. I'll come down and get you."

" That's alright," I reply, " I'd rather just wait here until I get my virus back."

" Are you sure? " He can't figure out why I'd want to waste my time 'alone' in a pit. Not that I blame him.

" Yes he's sure, Benedict Albert! " Enrico grumps, " Get lost already."

" Go away! " I snap, " I want to be alone. "

Dad scratches his head. " Well…fine. But just for the record, talking to dead people is not a sign of mental stability." He pulls away from the hole, leaving the sunlight unobstructed.

I turn my attention to Enrico. " So, why have you been helping me?"

Enrico does the ghostly equivalent of scratching his chin. " I like you. You're decent. A lot better than your father, that's for sure. Maybe I could relate most to you. And, to put it bluntly, you're also the only one who might be able to help me with a certain task."

" A certain task? " I repeat.

Enrico nods. " Yeah. You see, before I died, I made out a will, a goodbye letter to my daughter Natasha. It really means a lot to me. Unfortunately, I never got the chance to give it to someone and it was buried beneath the rubble when the Spencer estate exploded. It's still intact, but it is buried deep…it would take someone incredibly strong to reach it…"

" So you're thinking that once this is all over I could maybe go and get it for you. Get it to Natasha."

" I would be very grateful."

I give the Enrico-ghost a thumbs-up. " No problem. I get out of this bloody city, I promise to do just that."

His smile broadens, as if a great burden were finally lifted from his chest. " Thank you. One other thing--I have a cat. Black with white socks. Seven years old. Name's Sebastian. I want you to have him."

" You want me to have your cat? "

Enrico pauses. " Yeah. If it's alright with you, of course. You're not allergic or anything, are you? "

" No, just…surprised, I guess. I like cats. How will I know where to…"

" Natasha knows where he's at." Enrico supplies, " And she'd give him to you in a heartbeat. She's not really a cat person, and she really only keeps him around because he was mine and I was so fond of him. He's quite a character, Sebastian is. You'll like him."

I smile. " I'm sure I will."

Enrico laughs. " You have a nice smile. Must've taken after your mother."

" Thank you."

He gestures to the stone symbol-door. " Beyond that door lies passages to Umbrella's secret underground labs connecting up with their main facility. In them you'll find the rest of your family. I would've helped them already, but, you know, ghost." He holds up his arms in demonstration. They are all white and wisp-like with the consistency of fog just like the rest of him, " I can move small things around, but not so much with the bigger things. Besides, you'll see what I mean. Anyway, I'm going to walk through the door now and release my spirit-energy to unlock it. After that, don't expect to hear from me for awhile. Good luck! "

" Take care, and thanks! " I move to the side, give him some room. As I watch, Enrico starts for the door…and simply continues walking right on through it until he is out of sight. All at once, the symbols glow a bright green and the door simply swings open, revealing a dimly-lit earthen passage right out of a Halloween fright book. 

Stooping over, I pick up the Enrico-murdering gun.

Right. Like it's going to be a major advantage against anything other than zombies. I'm not even sure how many bullets are left in it. Nonetheless, it is all I have until my virus recuperates.

Slowly, I can feel the solution's effects wearing off, but Dad is right: it will be a few minutes until it wears off completely. Already, my senses are sharpening, my reflexes and strength building back up.

There is a thud behind me, and I turn to see Dad standing there. With rips and burns in his clothes and on his flesh, he does not exactly look like a million bucks.

Everyone agrees: Ashfords fight dirty. And Alexia is not above turning herself into a walking flamethrower and torching people to death.

Give me something I can hit and fight, not a raging inferno of death. _Note to self, next time I meet Alexia, have hose handy. _I think.

" Didn't think I'd leave my only son alone down in a hole, did you? Especially since you were obviously hallucinating. You okay now? "

I nod. " For the most part. How 'bout you? "

Dad grimaces. " Alexia tried to barbeque me, and the others tried to pump me full of lead. Other than the places your sweetheart shot me, I'm fine. Pulling the bullets out was no picnic though. So, what's with the passage? "

How to put this? " Well, I leaned against the door and it just opened. Must've pressed a switch or something. Anyway, I have a hunch it'll lead me to Mom and Sis. So I'm going down now."

I am already started down the tunnel when Dad calls, " Mind if I follow? " 

I know he will follow no matter what I say. Perhaps that is good. If we meet a supertyrant, the two of us should be able to kill it.

As we progress, the wane torchlight increases in brightness as my pupils slit and re-adjust. The images that I'm seeing now are coming with much sharper clarity. My heightened sense of smell returns and I inhale the revolting smell of rotting flesh.

But my thoughts are elsewhere. I have to find my mother and sister. After that, I should rendezvous with the rest of the team and we can make arrangements to leave this hellhole. 

And while I'm on the subject, I never should have brought the team into this in the first place. I feel like such an inconsiderate jerk knowing that Barry is dead and Rebecca has suffered. 

A hand on my shoulder.

I stop and jerk in surprise, meeting my father's gaze.

" Alan, look…before we continue, there's something I want to tell you."

Something he wants to tell me. Must be important, I can't remember the last time I saw him looking so…soulful. 

" I…I shouldn't have nailed you with that solution. The Ashfords came, and you could've died because of that. All because I was deadest on seeing you with Alexis…I'd rather see you with her than see you dead."

Oh my lord, it's gonna snow! " Is that your way of admitting you were wrong? " I smile, crossing my arms. My father almost never admits when he is wrong.

Dad flushes a little; a most funny expression on his face. " Maybe. Come on, let's not waste anymore time standing here chatting."

We continue down the passage, each twist and curve just as boring as the last.

" So, you thought you saw Enrico? " The question is casual. He doesn't really believe it, he is just curious.

Realizing I still have the beretta in my hand, I stop and take a moment to replace it in it's holster. " Yeah. You were right--hallucination. But it seemed real at the time."

He'd probably never believe the truth anyway, and even if he did it doesn't concern him. Once we get out of here, I have a promise to keep. Maybe Chris or someone can show me where the Spencer mansion used to stand.

" So, you going to try and kill Alexis again? " I ask. Maybe since he came so far as to realize I could've died because of our little fight, and maybe because he actually cares about that, Alexis will not be high on his priorities.

Maybe.

Dad is silent.

" You know, she isn't like the other Ashfords." I continue, hoping to make him see my perspective.

A defeated sigh escapes his throat. " Well, she did seem pretty concerned about you." He admits, " I still don't like her, but she's not worth fighting you for. Don't worry, I have bigger fish to fry than killing Alexis. Just…be careful around her, okay? Don't forget that she's an Ashford and the entire family has a history of being messed up. You don't know where her loyalties lie."

I wave a hand dismissively. " Aw, she can't be _that_ bad. The Redfields like her."

Dad casts me a disapproving eye. " You know how I feel about the Redfields."

" Would you really have killed their children? Seth and Crystal? "

He nods. " In a heartbeat. I'm sorry, but it just wouldn't bother me."

" How could it _not _bother you? " I stop, looking him straight in the eye, " Spade and I are your children, and you like Sherry. I know you care about us. How would you have felt if someone had killed us when we were all little? "

Dad mutters, looking away. " That's different."

" Why? Honestly, I want to know what would motivate you to kill innocent children when, deep down, I know there's still some good in you."

" There's no good in…" Dad starts lamely. I cut him off.

" Hey, when you injected me with that anti-virus stuff or whatever the heck it was, you could've thrown me to Alexia and then all of your problems would've been over. There would be nobody stopping you from having your sweet little revenge on the S.T.A.R.S. Only…you didn't.

" You know I wouldn't do something like that! You're my own son! And Sherry was my best friend's daughter. Crystal and Seth…those are Chris's kids."

" Okay," I rub an hand to my face, " Let me see if I'm following this, because right now it sounds like insane Ashford logic. You have to kill Crystal and Seth just because they're Chris's? No other reason? "

" You don't understand," Dad growls, " I hate Chris. Any way I can make him miserable, I'm going to do it."

" So, by your own warped logic then, Chris and the others should be trying to kill me. After all, I'm your son and they hate you."

" They won't. I'm sure even the dimwit Bayview S.T.A.R.S. must realize they couldn't take you."

" Sure they could. I trust them, they could easily lead me into a trap. You said it yourself: we're not invincible. And remember, Chris saved my life at the HCF base years ago. He didn't have to, but he did. If anything, you should be _thanking_ him. He didn't have to trust me. He didn't have to believe a single word I said. But he did. You can't go through your whole life thinking everyone's always got a knife in your back."

" In my case they do! " Dad huffs, " They want me dead…"

" Can you blame them? " I interrupt, " You're always trying to kill them, kill their kids, blackmail them, and you tortured poor Rebecca almost to death. Not even mentioning the way you betrayed them at Spencer. After all that, how are they supposed to feel about you? Happy? I honestly can't say that, if I were in Chris's place, I'd feel any differently. But killing children…that's low. I'm ashamed to even resemble you when you act like that. I never would've thought you'd stoop so low."

" I'm not the same person I was years ago. It doesn't matter to me anymore. None of it matters anymore."

What do you say to that? If Dad doesn't want to care, it's not like I can force him to. 

There is a moment of awkward silence, then I continue on.

I honestly can't understand what is going on in Dad's brain, what caused him to have such a narrow view on the world. He views everything as survival of the fittest, dog-eat-dog, someone wrongs you, you wrong them back tenfold. Make your way to the top no matter who you have to smash down.

What he needs is a good old-fashioned psychologist. Somehow, I doubt I could convince him to see one.

I'm trying to understand where he's coming from. Maybe if I did I could help turn him around. But I just can't.

I've done some mean, bad things I'm not proud of, but I'd _never_ kill a child, no matter what the circumstances. I just can't bring myself to be that cold and heartless. I don't know how anyone could.

Maybe I can talk it over with Alexis later. She seems like a pretty deep thinker, and she's closer to being a psychologist than I am. 

After all that's happened, she still believes in her family.

I wish my faith were that strong. Sometimes I don't know what to believe anymore. There are times when nothing makes sense and it all seems so…pointless. Like we're all nothing but actors on some higher being's stage; the flawed little clowns they laugh at and make fun of. Like we're here entirely for someone else's amusement.

It is not a thing I like to think about.

And…my god, does this tunnel go clear to China?

I feel like I've walked ten miles and still no end in sight. Whoever made this tunnel, I think they must've been following a snake when they were digging it out. The numerous twists and curves could compete with a curly fry. 

Thankfully, during all of this time my virus has come back full-throttle. It is a good thing, because my mortal endurance would not be very good right now.

Dad keeps pace beside me, his expression unreadable. But I know he is thinking about something, I can tell it by the total lack of expression. With my dad, nothing is always something.

Hopefully, he is thinking about what I said and deciding maybe it would be better if he weren't so ruthless. Or at least thinking about what I said. The change of heart might be a bit much to ask for right now. 

We turn another corner and…yes! A door! It's even a regular wooden door! It's about time.

Hurrying up to it, I twist the handle and invite myself in with an air as if I own the place.

Beyond is a scientific laboratory. And who should be in that laboratory but Chris and Claire? 

Startled, they look up from whatever they were doing with a flask filled with some greenish liquid. 

However, there is time for nothing else as right then my dad barges in, shoving me aside.

Why do these things always happen? Why always at the worst possible times? Am I jinxed? Are they jinxed? 

The room goes dead with an impending disaster.

Good luck to me trying to keep the peace.


	23. Getting It All Together

__

Chapter 23

__

" Wesker! Alan! " Chris and Claire are surprised to see us.

I turn to my father. " Dad, please, not _again_! " Mixing Dad with Redfields is like pouring oil on a raging fire.

Perfect. I _so _do not feel like another fight right now! It gets old protecting my friends from him. Especially after the fight we just had. I wonder if anything I said actually sunk in.

To my surprise, the attack never comes. Instead, Dad merely crosses his arms and glares at the Redfield sibs. " Don't worry, I don't feel like a fight just now."

The Redfields relax about one hair. They look like they've been through an adventure or two. Claire doesn't look much worse than when I left her--just an occasional cut and bruise here and there--but Chris looks like hell. Aside from having the worst hairday of his life, he is scratched up all over and bleeding from cuts inflicted across his face, arms, and chest. Really, it looks as if he tried to stuff a rabid bobcat down his shirt. In addition to all the cuts, a huge welt decorates the area just over his left eye, and a big bruise highlights his cheek. At least none of them appears life-threatening.

At the moment, he is holding a vial of some silvery-blue liquid. Hopefully, it's the cure to the T-Veronica virus. Could really use some of that right now.

But Chris is not paying attention to me. He glares daggers at my father. " Right, and I'm supposed to believe _that_." He snorts in response to Dad's remark.

Calmly, almost casually, Dad holds his palms up in the universal sign of surrender. " Hey, it's true." He makes his way over to the closest corner of the room and pretends to be deeply absorbed in some type of weird glowy machine sitting out on a counter; his back turned, seemingly indifferent to all that is happening.

But it is so painfully obvious that this is all just an act. He'd love to rip their guts out right here, right now. The only reason he doesn't is because he knows I would not let him. So he's decided to play it cool, probably wait until we've let our guard down. It would be just like him.

" So what's in the vial? " I ask, even though I already know the answer. 

" The cure to the T-Veronica virus." Chris answers without taking his eyes off Dad, " Paid Acid Rain a visit. They were very helpful, actually. A little reluctant to part with it, but in the end I think they want Alexia out of the picture just as badly as we do."

" All we need to do now is take care of the dart gun situation." Claire continues, " Because I think we all agree when I say 'if you're close enough to inject Alexia with a needle, you're too close'."

" Amen to that." Chris mutters darkly. Both he and Claire are very uncomfortable right now. I can smell fear a mile away, and they reek of it. Can't say I blame them. I'd be worried, too, if my super-powered worst enemy--a.k.a. Alexia--was standing in the same room with me.

Chris turns his attention back to the drawer he was rummaging through.

" I'm a little surprised to see you here, Claire. I thought you were staying with Steve." Whatever happened to that arrangement?

Claire is upset. " Something came up. I had to leave." She glances nervously at my father, like a rabbit eyeing a hawk. " Are you sure he's safe? " She jabs a finger in Dad's direction, and he turns around with a smile.

" Sure. I'm as safe as can be. Now you, on the other hand..."

I zip in front of my friends, blocking his path in case decides he's in a fighting mood. I wish he weren't here. He makes me nervous around people I care about. Of course, he probably knows that. 

Briefly, I wonder what it would be like to have a normal father, the kind that _isn't _fixated on killing my friends. 

Dad laughs." Jumpy! That's what I like about you, Son. Always so quick to jump to conclusions."

" Don't confuse jumping to conclusions with being cautious." I want him to leave. Wish I knew how to make him.

" I found what we need! " Claire's sudden announcement surprises me. I turn to see her grabbing the vial of T-Veronica cure and loading it into a dart-capsule. Once that is accomplished, Chris helps her load that into a dart-gun. " We've only got one shot, we're going to have to make it count."

" Then aim for her neck." Dad says, " That's her weak spot."

Chris narrows his eyes on him. " Oh? And after all the hell you've put us through, what makes you think we're going to trust you? "

Dad shrugs. " Hey, I want her dead too. I'm not asking for your pathetic trust. If only you had done it right the first time, Chris, we wouldn't be having this little problem."

" _Done it right the first time?! _" Chris echoes, " I blew her apart with a frigg'en linear launcher! I saw her explode all over the Antarctic! I have _no idea _how she came back! "

" He has a point," I second, " it doesn't make sense. All I can think of is maybe she had a clone. Or else it was magic."

I'm not sure if I believe in out-and-out magic, but if there's anything I've learned over the past few years it's to keep an open mind. Some things can't be proved or disproved. To simply dismiss them all as nonsense, in my opinion, is to limit yourself and put hurdles in the ways of new ideas.

It's possible the Ashfords could've had clones, but deep down that just doesn't feel right. Somehow, they found a way to resurrect themselves and come back to life. With Alexia's supposed genius, who knows?

Dad's next comment interrupts my thoughts of sorcery and magic. " So, how's Rebecca doing? "

Terrific. Now he plans to stick around and taunt Chris.

" She'll live." Chris throws defiantly, eyes burning with hatred.

" Really? " Dad examines his gloves. " I didn't expect such a positive prognosis with a lacerated liver."

" I healed it." I state flatly. 

Dad looks up from his hands. " Is that so? I'll bet you think you're a true friend, don't you? "

I don't answer.

" Come on, let's go." Chris tugs Claire's arm, and the two of them head for the other door--the only other exit to this lab.

Best suggestion I've heard all day.

I back up slowly, watching Dad in case he tries anything. 

_Never turn your back on your foe_. That was the first lesson Dad taught me back when we were training. It is most applicable here. So terrible that I can't trust my own father.

" You must've given her your blood." Dad drones on, reading my mind, " Ah, _that _should be interesting! " He rubs his hands together in gleeful anticipation.

" What? Is something going to happen to her? " What have I done?

A wicked smirk slithers across Dad's face. " Hmm…maybe." To Chris, he yells, " Your luck can't last forever! "

Life's all about choices, and right now I'm thinking I'd do better to follow my team. Dad can take care of himself. Now is the time to make like a banana and split. Without another word, I turn and run off through the opposite door after Chris and Claire. I do not hear Dad following. That's good; I've had about enough quality time with him today.

Despite the fact that I'm running at a normal person's pace, I catch up with the Redfield sibs in no time. They are obviously not in a hurry. This frustrates me. People could be dying for Pete's sake!

Speaking of which, I find my thoughts shifting to Rebecca: the cheerful rookie my cruel father used in place of a knifeholder. Did Dad really mean it would be…interesting…that Rebecca now has a tiny bit of T-2 in her system? Or did he just say that to rattle my nerves like I have known him to do upon occasion in the past? 

I knew all along there was a chance my virus might do something to her, but she was dying, what choice did I have? I don't know if there are any prerequisites for safely harboring the T-2 virus. Perhaps the blood has to be treated first, or maybe it only benefits certain types of people?

Disturbing thoughts.

" Your Dad's a real jerk." Claire mutters once I reach her side. 

As if I needed _that _pointed out. 

Now we are in someone's personal bedroom.

Yech. You get some obsessed scientists in Umbrella. Seriously, what is the appeal to having a bedroom deep underground and connected to a secret research facility? I'll probably never understand how people could get so wrapped up in their work that they'd just want to shut the rest of the world out. There is so much more beyond chemicals and mutations!

" Well, I've been trying to talk some sense into him, but not much luck. There's a wall there." I reply in response to Claire's comment.

" You can't reason with the unreasonable." Chris explains, opening the next door with a backward glance, " He's never going to change."

He's probably right. " Probably not. I'm sorry, Chris. You were right: nobody's safe with him. I just…" I search for the words, " I know there's still some good in him. I've seen it."

Claire grabs my hand, sending a wave of warmth into my body. " I've seen it too." Her touch is so soft, so warm. I give her hand a gentle squeeze and am rewarded with a wry smile. " He does care. Maybe not for anyone else, maybe not even for himself anymore, but he still cares for you. He actually acts halfway civil around you."

" Eh…I wouldn't go as far as to say that." I say, " He fought me just before we came in."

" Really? " Chris presses with growing interest, " Who won? "

I frown. " He did. He had this chemical he injected me with that briefly robbed my viral abilities. You see, I'd found Alexis and he wanted to kill her. To make a long story short, the other Ashfords arrived in the nick of time and broke it up. Last I saw of Alexis, she was with them."

Claire releases my hand, shaking her head. " Why would Wesker want to kill Alexis? "

" Isn't it obvious? " Chris mutters, his expression sour, " She's Alexia's daughter, and believe me, it shows."

" Not only that," I add, " but my dad knows I like Alexis. He thinks I'm too good for her."

Chris cocks an eyebrow, mildly surprised. " You like Alexis? "

Claire breaks into a fit of giggles, and I feel like a fish out of water.

" Well…yeah." I sputter. Why did I have such a hard time saying that? It's the truth. And I have nothing to be ashamed about. Like Claire was saying earlier: we're both full-grown adults.

Claire, however, is enjoying my awkwardness a bit too much. " Where have you been? " She gives her brother a rough pat on the back, " Haven't you noticed the way those two have been looking at each other? "

So, this is the way she wants to play it, ey? Well, two can play at this game. " Yeah? Well don't think I haven't noticed you and Steve making with the cuddlies."

Chris slaps a hand to his face, rubbing away a smile. " Alright, getting back on track here…"

Sounds coming from the other room divert my attention to the next door. Footsteps. Two sets of them. Surprise surprise. I've found I generally don't like surprises. 

I am at the door in a flash, flinging it open. A large auditorium filled with theatre-style seating and a luxurious stage yawns before me. 

Two female figures are standing in one of the nearby aisles, and I recognize them immediately.

Natasha and Spade! My little sister is safe! 

How did Natasha get here? Oh well, there will be time for that later.

" Alan! " Spade squeaks, her voice a joyful chirp of joy and excitement. She leaps a row of seats and plunges into me, wrapping her arms around my torso in a bear hug.

" Spade! Thank God you're safe! " I return her hug, taking care not to crush every bone in her body. It is a well-practiced skill. When I first got my virus, I lost count of all the times I crushed peoples' hands in a handshake without ever meaning to. And the doorknobs…I don't even want to _think_ about the doorknobs. 

Relief washes over me in a comforting wave. Spade is safe. Now all I have to do is find Mom. Spade releases me, and looking now at my little sis, I can see she has grown quite a bit in the years since I last saw her.

Her features have gotten sharper, and her whole body has taken on a more adult tone. Long, shiny black hair frames a pretty face highlighted by shining emerald eyes and ruby-red lips. From head to toe, she is dressed exclusively in black leather with a tough, biker jacket and 'bite me' sexy leather pants and boots. Even her fingernails are black. Long and black. 

Talk about dressed to kill. If I didn't know any better, I might think she was gothic, or evil, or both. Yet she is neither, and her fashion sense startles me.

I have to remind myself that she is 15 now, and I last saw her at 10. Of course she was bound to go through some changes. And she does have the figure for it.

There's no doubt about it--my sister is turning into a very beautiful woman.

Naturally, I'm happy for her, but at the same time a little worm of worry burrows it's way into my head. I feel sorry for the guy she ends up with, especially if Dad doesn't like him.

" Wow." I watch her eyes fall over me, looking me up and down with growing fascination. " You sure look a lot like Dad."

Naturally. I sigh. " Yeah, I get that a lot. You're looking pretty good yourself. Black leather? That's a trend I haven't been seeing lately."

I am aware of Chris and Claire standing behind me. I move aside, let them make it through the doorway while holding a hand out and gesturing towards them. " These are my friends Chris and Claire Redfield. Everybody, this is my little sister Spade."

Spade plants a mock punch in my side. " Little! " She crosses her arms playfully, waiting for an apology.

I cup a hand to my mouth. " Ahem, my _big _sister Spade."

Her eyes light up. " Much better! " She always was one to kid.

Spade and I were close. Probably as close as Chris and Claire. We always enjoyed teasing each other. I don't mind a little mischief once in a while. What fun would the world be without it?

Taking the intuitive, Spade extends her hand, and Claire is the first to embrace it in a shake.

" Nice to meet you." Claire smiles, " Alan's your brother? That's cool. Chris is mine."

Now Chris takes her hand. " I'm glad we found you. Do you know where your mother is? "

Spade shakes her head sadly, fear welling up beneath those fiery green eyes. She is scared. She turns to me, and I wait for what she has to say. " No. It was awful! They kept us in those cages for so long…I even heard them talking about trying experiments on us…you know, viruses and stuff? But I don't know if they would actually do that…you see, the weird thing is, they seemed _terrified_ of you and Dad. I actually heard one say, and I quote, _'Do you really think we should try that? If Wesker and Alan find out, we're toast.' _Unquote. Anyway, Mom got out of her cage yesterday and said she was going to try and get help. A bunch of butt-ugly guards chased her out of the room before she could free me. That was the last I saw of her. I was stuck in my cage until Natasha found me and got me out."

" Yep. Never leave home without your handy-dandy lock pick! " Natasha chirps from somewhere off to the side. I don't even bother looking her direction.

Spade catches my eye, and a sadness overtakes her. " Why did you did you and Dad leave us? We missed you a lot. Where did you go? "

Her words pierce my soul. Such an innocent question. But how can I explain? Nothing I say will make it right. A deathly silence falls over the room.

My mind drifts back to that night five years ago when I left the house for Crystal Lake enroute to the HCF base.

_" Where are you going, Alan? And at such an ungodly hour." Mom met me in the kitchen before I could get out the door to the car. She must've heard me still up and wondered what was going on. I hadn't wanted to tell her. I knew she would worry, maybe even try to stop me from going. I had planned to leave quietly and come back as soon as it was over. Then perhaps she would understand._

" Crystal Lake." I told her, rather anxious because I wanted to get started on the trip, " It's a matter of life or death. No time to explain. I arranged to meet up with Chris."

Mom frowned, looking quite comical in her nightgown and fuzzy, pink slippers. " Chris Redfield? Are you sure that's a good idea? "

" I don't have time to be sure--I promise I'll explain once it's all over. Please, you have to trust me on this."

" How long will you be gone? "

" I don't know, a day? "

" Well be careful. You know I worry when you're away."

I had thought about telling her that I loved her, then decided against it because it might sound too much like goodbye, and then she'd **really** worry.

Instead, I said, " I will Mom. Goodnight." Then I dashed out the door and hopped into the car.

That was the last thing I ever said to her in person.

Of course, it wasn't like I _knew_ that I'd nearly die in a fight with Alexia. Or that I would have to be rescued by Dad. At the time, I didn't even know my father had a virus. When I came to, it was days later, and by then I was fully-virused and without a clue where I was.

Dad had assured me that they were safe, that they would be safest without us hanging around. Maybe he figured we would be making lots of new enemies, so it would be safer if those we loved remained as anonymous as possible.

In any case, I had so readily accepted that fact and took to training with Dad without a whole lot of effort to track them down, to let them know I was safe. Looking back on it now, I can't help but to think I could've found them if I would've tried a little harder.

A terrific son and brother I am. I torture those I care about by fading off into obscurity without warning and without even letting them know I'm alright. I guess I truly am like my dad. It's an awful feeling.

Dad says we aren't human anymore, but I don't really believe that. We have supernatural abilities, sure. There's no arguing with the physical effects of the virus. But I still feel pain, anger, guilt, humiliation, happiness, love…all the emotions that define one as human. Not much has changed.

I force myself to look at Spade, to see the hurt on her face. " I…I didn't want to. Look Spade, Dad and I are…different…now. Look into my eyes."

She does. She does not seem impressed. " So? I don't see anything different about them. What do you mean? "

" Hey, she's right! " Chris. I'd almost forgotten he was here.

" Your eyes are normal again! " Claire marvels.

" Really? " What a surprise. How do I _do_ that? I've never seen Dad's eyes change color. If I can figure out how to change my eyes at will, I won't need to hide them from public with sunglasses anymore! Finally, no more strange stares in the movie theaters, no more snappy comments when I go to fancy restaurants.

Hmm…maybe I can change them back?

I form a mental picture of my red-and-gold eyes, _willing_ them to change.

They do. At least, they've changed _somewhat_ judging by the expressions on everyone's faces.

" They changed back." Chris shrugs, amused. " What do you know? That's interesting."

Spade looks into my eyes with awe. " What happened to you?! " She is excited, but not really intimidated. That's good. It's my favorite of the two reactions I usually get once people learn the truth about me.

" The same thing that happened to our father. I have a virus. Don't worry, it's not a bad one. I'm not going to mutate or anything. But I have these powers now. I'm stronger and faster than the best Olympic athletes, and I heal very quickly. Same goes for Dad. He calls our virus T-2. I'm guessing it's a variant of the T-virus, thankfully one that doesn't turn people into zombies. I'm sorry I didn't get into contact with you and Mom. I didn't know where you were, and Dad seemed to think you'd be okay. I missed you too. But the last few years have really been a trial for me."

Spade nods, a little of the sadness leaving her eyes. " For us, too. We've been moving around a lot. I don't care where you were before, I'm just glad you're here now."

" I think it's cool you have a virus! Your eyes are very pretty. How strong are you? " Natasha hangs halfway over a seat with a lovesick grin plastered on her face. I can practically see the little hearts dancing in her eyes.

My god, does she _ever_ take anything seriously? 

I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to say _'Strong enough to throw your annoying butt clear through the next wall.' _

I wonder what Enrico's message to her says. Hopefully she inherited some beautiful property far, far away from Bayview. I don't hate her, and I would hate to see anything really bad happen to her, but she is irritating.

And I think she's jealous of Alexis.

" Natasha, how did you get here? " Chris asks, stepping around me to get to her. I wonder if she bothers him as much as she does me.

" Helicopter." Natasha says the word with pride. " Jill flew me here. Someone told her Wesker was in Africa, and she got real worried, so she left the kids with a friend in Bend and came here. I had to tag along, of course."

Of course. 

Chris is animated. " She's here?! Right now?! "

Natasha nods, not seeming in the least worried. Her attitude bugs me. Really, it is as if she thinks this is all just a game. " She's looking for you right now. We got split up when the hunters attacked."

" Hunters?! " Now Chris is _really_ worried. " I have to find her! "

Claire nods. " We have to find everyone! This base is loaded with supertyrants, mutants, Ashfords, and Weskers." Catching herself, she turns to Spade and I, her face turning an embarrassed shade of red. " No offense,"

" None taken."

Chris pulls his radio from his pocket and presses a button. There is a shrill 'beep', and he says, " Carlos, Rebecca, anyone, do you read? "

When he releases the button, the ensuing static is quickly interrupted by Carlos's voice. " Do I _breathe_? Yes, barely. That you Chris? I can barely hear you." His voice is distant, as if far away. It sounds like a pack of dogs howling in the background.

" Damn," Chris curses, " I knew I should have checked the batteries before I left! "

Holding the button down, he says, " It's Chris. We found Alan's sister. Keep a lookout for the others and any survivors. What's your position? "

" My condition? Panicked. My position? Stuck up a tree out of bullets with an entire pack of zombies and dogs licking their chops and making dinner plans. I'm not too far away from a big grove of trees near the…eastern border, I think. Can't miss it. If you're not doing anything, I could really use some help. I've been trying to contact you for the past ten minutes. Oh, and if you come, make sure you bring firepower. Lots of it." The transmission goes dead.

" Carlos? Carlos? " Chris tries. Nothing. He shakes his head. " Perfect. Just perfect." His frown is deeper than the San Andres fault. He is not a happy camper. Poor guy. Now he has to worry about Jill, and Carlos's situation.

Luckily, I can help him with at least _part_ of his problem.

" I'll go," I offer, " I'll help Carlos, you can look for Jill and the others…"

Noises in the back hall, coming from the rooms we just passed through. It sounds like a herd of drunken elephants smashing through walls.

Supertyrants. Nothing else blunders around like that. There's more than one.

" Run! " I call, " The supertyrants are coming! " But by now, that has become painfully obvious. The supertyrants are so close they sound like an earthquake, and we split.

  



	24. Fractious Friends

****

Chapter 24

" Graaawwghh!! You won't get away _this_ time! " A supertyrant's voice booms.

Seconds later, and the sound of the door behind us exploding violently ricochets through my eardrums.

Figures. I have yet to meet a supertyrant who believed in opening doors. They'd rather just smash right on through them like a train.

I am running with the others, but I'm not going nearly as fast as I am capable of. Though I could easily outrun and outdistance our uninvited and unwelcome company, that wouldn't do my friends any good, and I have absolutely no intention of chickening out and leaving them to fend for themselves.

We're quickly gaining on the stage now, Claire and Spade in the lead. I purposely lag back a little, look over my shoulder. My heart skips a beat.

Three! Three hideous monsters with razor claws and too many sharp teeth are closing in on us! 

" So now it takes three of you? " I taunt, daring to live the dangerous life.

" Graah! Stomper, Bruiser, split them up! I'll take care of Wesker."

" I am _not_ Wesker! " I protest, quickening my pace and narrowly avoiding the slicing claws of my very own personal supertyrant. I feel so privileged I could just heave.

Chris, Spade, and Natasha have almost reached one of then entrance doors to the theater. That's when the impossible happens.

A supertyrant _leaps_ through the air; a growling, hissing, scaly-green ball of fury that lands right in the middle of the group.

Rats! I didn't think the suckers could jump _that_ far! That's more like a move Dad or I would make.

Naturally, this causes widespread pandemonium in the group. Chris and Claire run one way, Natasha and Spade the other. Jumper supertyrant chooses to chase the Redfields through the closest theater entrance. Natasha and Spade have already started for the other exit to the far right of the stage.

There's not even a choice about who I must follow. Chris and Claire have been around the block a few times--they're used to being chased around by deadly freak mutations that want to kill them. I am confident that they can handle one supertyrant. But Natasha and Spade are inexperienced. They don't stand a chance.

A gruff grunt behind alerts my attention to another supertyrant preparing to leap. He probably plans to land between the girls, or even worse--_on_ them.

I feel my eyes light up in a wild adrenalin rush. _Sorry pal, but not today. _I think as I zip forward, leaping the remaining few rows of seats in a diagonal shortcut. 

It is a race to reach them first, and I seldomly lose races. 

I have already reached the girls and whirled around while the supertyrant is still in the air: flying forward as if in slow motion, blood and spittle dripping from his hideous gaping mouth, claws spread forward like the harbinger of doom.

But I am ready for him, and when he is within range I strike out with my right fist, mustering every ounce of strength I have. The blow connects solidly with his chest, and the startled supertyrant is now flying the opposite direction. My hand stings from the encounter, but I know the pain will be short-lived.

Spade fumbles with the doorknob.

" Hurry up! " Natasha hisses.

" I'm trying! It's stuck! " Spades spews, jerking the knob insanely.

" Move aside! " I call, reaching over and yanking the door off it's hinges.

Natasha grins. " My, you _are_ strong! "

I turn and throw the door at the supertyrants. " Hurry! That wont slow them down for more than one second! "

Ahead lies a hall.

" This way! " Natasha flings open the first side door we come across an dashes in. My sister follows, the picture of fright.

I don't think it is a good idea to just grab the first room you come to, but I follow them in. And stare in disbelief at the mess Natasha has lead us into. 

It's a big room filled with towering, wooden bookshelves packed with tons and tons of science supplies and big bags filled with treated dirt and chemicals. A musty odor lingers in the air, and the whole cluttered room is--without much exaggeration-- as cold as a freezer. Not another door is in sight. 

Great, now we're trapped on here!

The girls dive behind a large bookcase off to the far right, and I join them, knowing the supertyrants will probably find us anyway. After all, Mark had said they could see body-heat, and ours is really going to show in an already cold room.

The supertyrants stomp closer, and we duck down even further. Spade grips my arm and looks into my eyes, completely terrified. " What are we going to do? " She whispers softly, squeezing my arm as if the mere act of being near me, touching me, will somehow be enough to save her. 

" We'll think of something. " I whisper back, mind racing for an answer. If the supertyrants find us, there is no way I will be able to take both of them. A grim truth.

Yet seeing my sister now, seeing the unwavering trust she has in me despite the circumstances, snaps something inside of me. I make up my mind right then: the supertyrants may come, but they are _not _going to get Spade or Natasha. They'll have to kill me first, and that is not going to be easy.

The heavy thudding of dinosaurian feet betrays the supertyrants' entrance into the room, and I hold my breath. We are out of their eyesight, but if they have heat vision it's only a matter of time before they find us. Unless, of course, we get lucky and they think we have gone another way. I scan the room, searching for anything useful should worst come to worst.

Without warning, a little metal can hits the floor, sounding like an atomic bomb going off in the stillness of the room.

Natasha inches back away from the shelf, a nervous, guilty frown on her face.

Spade and I glare at her. The supertyrants may not have seen that, but they had to have heard it.

" Well sorry! " Natasha defends, a bit too loudly, " I thought you would already be fighting them by now anyway. Here's a plan: fight them."

What?! I can't _believe_ this woman! She really doesn't get it! 

I give Natasha a hard glare, purposely glowing my eyes at her." Here's a plan: why don't I throw _you_ out and _you_ fight them? " I growl, hoping to scare some sense into her.

But there is no more time for debate. " In here! " A supertyrant bellows, shouting so loudly that that the entire room shakes with his voice. Probably all of Africa heard him.

I make a face as the decaying reek of rotting flesh stuck between his teeth reaches my nostrils. Lovely. 

He storms further into the room.

Then I spy it: a huge, metal barrel labeled _'Liquid Nitrogen' _sitting in the corner. One of the supertyrant weaknesses Mark mentioned was cold. And liquid nitrogen is colder than standing butt-naked at the North Pole during a blizzard. If it can't do the job, nothing can. 

A plan quickly comes to mind. Risky? Very. But if it is executed well, I see no reason why it shouldn't work.

In one swift movement, I have removed my beretta from it's holster and flung it into Spade's hands.

" I hope you're a good shot." I say as I zip to the nitrogen, " Shoot the barrel when I'm clear." My whole plan depends on it. How good is my little sis with a gun? I guess I'm about to find out.

I am greeted by the sight of both supertyrants charging towards me, knocking bookshelves down and trampling over them.

I lift the heavy white canister and toss it to them. " Here's a present, guys." It lands in overgrown the arms of the closest behemoth.

" What's this? " The startled look on Mr. Big's face is almost comical as he examines his little 'gift'.

Spade raises the gun.

I leap over the heads of my foes and hit the floor running. The puzzled expressions of the supertyrants is the last thing I see in detail before the explosion. The girls were at a safe distance, and now so am I.

I spin around and admire our handiwork. 

Two ice-cycle supertyrants now decorate the room--completely frozen over and turned completely white--their icen faces still reflecting that initial moment of confusion when the canister first landed in their arms.

Rushing over, I give the closest one a hardy tap, sending him crashing into his pal and shattering both onto the floor in a huge collection of silver and white ice shards.

We did it! Two down, two to go. I give Spade a thumbs-up, and a satisfied smile spans her face.

" Hah! " Spade makes her way to me, deliberately smashing and kicking the frozen remnants of our foes in the process, " That'll teach 'em! "

" Coldness and their eyes. Those are their weaknesses." I state, relieved to have finally evened the odds a bit, " By the way, nice shot."

" Really? You like? " Spade spins the gun in her hand in proud demonstration, " Mom and I took up self-defense classes last year. They showed us all kinds of techniques, including how to use the gun. We had target practice and everything. Guess it came in handy, huh? " 

I nod, proud of my little sister. " Yeah."

As for Natasha…I'm having a whole different host of feelings towards her right now. She trots up to us and stands alongside Spade, smiling like a lottery winner.

" Nice job! " She chirps, eyes falling onto the icy chunks on the floor.

I can take it no more. I _have_ to drive some sense into her before she ends up getting herself or someone else killed.

Approaching her calmly, she is unprepared when I suddenly lash out and grab her neck firmly, shoving her to the side and pressing her back up against a wall.

Her brown eyes widen in sudden shock and fear, and I do nothing to clear the illusion. 

My face is now inches from hers. " Listen to me, Natasha." I say, mustering up a firm, powerful voice, " This isn't a game. If something goes wrong, we can't just hit 'reset' and play again. People are dying. This is a very _serious_ situation, Miss Marini. You wanna live? Start _taking_ it more seriously." 

" You mean it's my fault I accidentally knocked a can over? " Natasha whimpers, shaking like a leaf.

I have really put the fear of God into her, and I'm not even holding her that tightly. But it is the effect I want, and it seems to be working.

" No, anyone can be clumsy at times." I admit, remembering times past when my own incoordination caused me trouble, " That was a mistake, true. But it was an even bigger mistake to just assume I could fight them all. I'm not invincible. The nitrogen was a lucky break, but if it hadn't been there, I might be dead. _You_ might be dead. How would you feel about that? Or do you even care? "

" I…I care." Natasha trembles, " Please! Let me go! " 

I release her and she rubs her throat dramatically. No way I hurt her that much. She regards me fearfully, her expression a mix of fear and sorrow.

I have broken her heart.

And I feel terrible. But really, how else could've I gotten through to her?

Carefully, Natasha slinks past me, as if she expects me to strike and rip her throat out any second.

Spade gives her a sympathetic look. " He's just trying to help you, you know. My brother is not a mean person."

" How would you know? " Natasha snaps, backing away so quickly she almost trips over a fallen bookshelf. Tears start streaming down her face, and when it next comes her voice is shaky, " You haven't even seen him in years. He's just like Wesker. I'm sorry you hate me so much. I'll just leave." Natasha turns and bounds out the door, taking it much harder than I thought she would.

It has become clear to me that she is very immature for her age, but once she thinks about it, she will see I am right. If she lives that long.

" We can't just let her run off alone! " Spade words what I'm thinking.

I nod. " You're right. Tell me, do you think I was too harsh? "

She shakes her head. " Not really. She needed a wake-up call. How old is she, anyway? "

I shrug. " I don't know. Close to my age, I'd guess. But I didn't know she was so…fragile. Come on! " I dash out of the room, my sister on my heels.

Natasha has not made it far…I hear her retreating footfalls in a room halfway up the hall and to the left. Carefully, I open the door and find myself walking into a library. The scent of musty reading material hangs rich in the air, and tomes of multi-colored books span the walls with a few huge displays in the center forming aisles.

Gotta love Umbrella. You never know what you might find in their secret bases. This must be the Library Of Forbidden Knowledge.

A big, comfy red easychair sits facing a fireplace off to the right, and it is there that I find her sitting, facing away from me. Oddly enough, a fire is still going in the hearth.

" Go away." Natasha mutters without bothering to look, " I want to be alone."

Spade catches up with me and peeks in.

I walk over and place myself in from of the fire, blocking her heat and at the same tie taking care not to make eye contact for too long.

Annoying or not, I want her to stay with me. Leaving her free run in a place filled with monsters and superbeings feels too much like setting a mouse loose in a cat pit. With those kinds of odds, I might as well kill her myself and get it over with. It's obvious that she has issues, and she could definitely use some guidance in her life, but her heart is in the right place.

" So, this is your master-plan? " I state, keeping my voice light and non-threatening, " Run off alone and pout? Maybe catch up on a few good books? What if a monster had been in here? "

" One is." Natasha mutters, staring at the floor.

" I don't hate you," I confess, a little irked by her last comment, " I only want to help you."

" Could've fooled me," Natasha replies, " I thought you were going to kill me back there." 

I shake my head, uncertain whether she means that literally or metaphorically. " No. I don't want to hurt you. And I didn't know my little speech would upset you so much. Just…try to think about what I said, 'kay? " I nod my head towards the door. " Come with us. There's safety in numbers."

Natasha finally meets my gaze, but seems reluctant to move. She wipes a hand to her face, removing the salty leftovers of tears. 

This irritates me. I'm sorry that I hurt her like this, but I really don't have all day to spend trying to coax her out of her seat. 

I start for the door. " Alright, you can stay here. After all, it's your choice. But I will warn you that my father isn't far off--ran into him just a little while ago, actually--and that's a Wesker that _will_ kill you."

Just as I'd suspected, Natasha leaps out of her seat. Thankfully, the concept of meeting my dad alone was enough to bring her to her senses.

" On second thought, I'll follow you."

I reward her with a thumbs-up and a friendly smile. " That's the spirit! " 

A faint whimper jerks my head up towards the air shaft located just above the shelf of books off to the side.

" Did you hear something? " Spade wonders, following my gaze.

" Yes. Sounds like someone's in trouble." I strain to listen, hoping to catch more, but all is silent. 

Which, now that I think of it, is weird. Usually the underground labs are the areas with the most zombies, but I haven't encountered a single one down here so far. Nor have I heard them. This should relieve me.

Yet it doesn't. I worry when things don't happen the way I have grown accustomed to seeing them happen. Maybe my years with Dad have made me too edgy, always looking on the dark side of everything.

I hear it again: a sad whimper, inaudible to normal human ears. It sounds vaguely feminine, but at this point it is hard to be one hundred percent sure.

I told Chris I would help Carlos, but that voice sounded pretty desperate, and I really want to investigate. First thing's first, I must get ahold of my captain. 

Remembering my radio, I pull it out, switch it on, and check the frequency before mashing the button down. " Chris, do you read? "

" Loud and clear." Chris says after a few seconds delay, " We escaped the supertyrant, and found Jill. We're on our way to help Carlos, but we haven't been seeing you or the girls yet."

The situation is better than I would've thought. " Great! Natasha and Spade are safe, and we killed the two supertyrants on our tail with a canister of liquid nitrogen. Shooting it while it's in their arm turns out to be a very effective method of killing our mutant friends. Now we're in a library somewhere, and it sounds like someone needs my help. I'll keep you posted."

" Great! Now we're down two supertyrants…let me know once you find anyone. Or any_thing_."

" Roger." I slip the radio back in my pocket. " Looks like I'm going in." I position myself just underneath the grating. It is rather large: easily big enough for me to pass through. 

I turn to the girls." Stay here. I'm going to go check it out. I'll be back as soon as I can."

" Alright." Spade agrees, " Not like I was planning on going off by myself anyway with more supertyrants on the loose."

" Don't be too long! " Natasha frets, " If your dad decides to drop by I am so totally screwed! "

I don't answer. Instead, I jump up and grab the grate, ripping it out of the wall. Dropping it, my next leap lands me inside the shaft. Unfortunately, the shaft is nowhere near big enough for me to stand up in, and I am forced to crawl on my hands and knees through the metal passage, all the while noting how clean and dust-free it is. That means it's well-used. Oh boy. Any minute and I could be hit with a blast of hot wind.

The ensuing darkness doesn't hinder my vision. Quietly as possible, I make my way deeper and deeper into the system. A big tri-bladed fan blocks my path. A quick punch and it is no longer an obstacle.

I wince at the noise.

When you're trying to be quiet, the faintest stir sounds like fireworks going off.

Getting over the fallen fan without making noise is no fun either, but soon I have passed over it and several side-passages with lights at the end of them pop into view.

I take a moment to listen, to survey my surroundings. 

My sudden movement startles a rat, and I watch it scurry down the opposite direction; it's tiny claws making a scritch-scritching on the cold metal.

Then another noise drifts to my ears. Clicking. Like someone rattling away on a computer keyboard.

" Do you think Alexia will catch onto us? " A male voice says. His voice is soft and quiet--he's trying not to be heard outside whatever room he's in--but with my extraordinary hearing, he might as well be talking over an intercom. 

Hm. Voice came from my right. Definitely. I turn and slink down the right-hand shaft, listening for more.

" I don't think so. She's busy with S.T.A.R.S. and the Weskers." Another male voice. Younger than the first, and with a certain familiar feel to it. I've heard that voice before. But where?

I creep up to the end of the shaft and peer through the grate, where a scene of horror awaits.

Mom! She's lying strapped to a hospital bed with all kind of wires and needles poking in and out of her body. Her eyes are half-closed, and her breathing comes in short, ragged bursts. She's in a small lab-room, and two men clad in white labcoats with the traditional beige pants are staring at a computer and checking various monitors displaying rooms throughout the base.

A short, heavy-set Italian guy who appears to be in his forties with graying, brown-red hair and a beard, and a younger, gangly guy, close to my age with short light-brown hair and a vaguely familiar face.

I don't know what they are planning on doing, but they are about to have a rude awakening.

Nobody treats my mother like that!

Anger swells inside me, and I shove the grate out with enough force to smash it clear into the next wall where it sticks like some kind of odd decoration.

The looks on the men's faces are priceless as I fall to the floor, landing a bit awkwardly on my feet.

So maybe I don't get an 'A' for entrance, but these guys are about to get what's coming to them.

I am about to charge, to slam their sorry asses right through their little computer station, when Gangly Guy presses a button and red bars flash in front of me.

Hello, what's _this?! _I stop in my tracks, amazed.

Red bars in front of me, to all sides, above me…I look down and notice sharp indentations in the floor where the same red bars of light and energy crackle in the grooves. No wonder the floor looks so odd.

I'm trapped in a cage made entirely of laser beams! I look to the ceiling and detect the little metal devices shooting the lasers at perfect intersections for a flawless prison.

My strength and speed won't help me here--I touch those bars, I lose a limb. And not in a pretty way.

They have me. They have me and it infuriates me. If I get loose, the first thing I will do will be to murder both of them. They have no idea on just how dangerous of territory they are treading.

From the operating table, my mother stirs. " Alan? Is that you? " She tilts her head in my direction, a glazed over, broken look in her once shiny blue eyes.

My god, what have they been doing to her?! 

Huge patches of hair are missing from her scalp, and that's where a staggering number of the wires and electrodes are sticking out at all angles. She's probably been here for hours.

" Mom? It's me. What did they do to you? "

She doesn't answer. Instead, she shuts her eyes all the way, and for a moment I fear she is dead. But no--she is still breathing.

" You! " I turn to my captors, eyes burning with hatred, " What did you do to her! "

Beard Guy smiles, showing several stained teeth in need of a trip to the dentist. " Not much. Just, you know, experiments. The usual. But she won't die just yet, don't worry."

" Yeah," Gangly Guy agrees, " And whether she dies or not all depends on you."

" Oh, forgive our rudeness," Beard Guy laughs, " I'm Dr, Otson, and over there is my assistant Miles."

Miles grins, and it is then that his face flashes to memory. " You should remember me, Alan."

********************************************************************************

**__**

A/N: Just a note in response to Fahsky's question about the T-2 virus--No, Wesker's virus was not called T-2 in the actual games. In fact, the games didn't actually mention the name of his virus. It could be the JFK virus for all I know! ^_^ Anyway, I just decided the virus needed a name, so I named it T-2. This doesn't make it official, and if Capcom ever does decide to name it in the future, I would be really surprised ( not to mention flattered ) if they called it T-2.

****

Sych77: Don't expect to see too much more ( if any ) of Enrico's ghost later on. You might hear hints to his doings, but he's already played his major part. And could Wesker be developing a good side? Hmm…maybe, I'm not one to spoil the suspense! ;)


	25. Seeing Red

****

Warning: This particular chapter is rated 'R' for extreme violent content. People die horribly. Not for the faint of heart. Consider yourself warned. 0_0

Chapter 25

Muscatine, Iowa, U.S.A. November 22, 2000

I trudged through the thick white snow which seemed to gleam silver in the moonlit field. The crisp, cold air refreshed my senses and made my breath come out in foggy puffs.

All around me, the stench of T-virus and rotting flesh made it all but impossible to forget that this town had succumbed to the outbreak. The mournful moans of the living dead pierced the night as things that shouldn't be walking prowled around in search of their next meal. 

A rabid pack of zombie dogs with their exposed bones and tissue rocketed towards us from a farm nearby.

" Ah, the devil dogs. Should be fun." Dad mused at my side.

This town had been infected only days ago, and HCF had sent my father and I in to kidnap a certain scientist and literally kick butt. The reward, of course, was modest, and Dad insisted I go to further my training.

" Let 'em come and get it." I laughed harshly, feeling I could take on the whole world. I knew the dogs would be mere child's play for someone such as myself enhanced by the T-2 virus.

So Dad and I just stood there, daring the dogs to challenge us.

They did. Five sets of snapping jaws rushed us. I kicked the first one under the chin, snapping it's head back in a sickening crack and almost taking it off. 

The fight was short and brutal, and within two minutes the carcasses of several zombified dogs lay bleeding in the snow, staining it red.

Dad rubbed his hands together gleefully and nodded his approval at my performance. " Good job, but how about a real_ challenge? "_

I nodded eagerly. " Try me." I was getting quite good at these little practices, and nothing seemed too big a challenge. Really, I felt as if I were a god.

Dad re-adjusted his sunglasses and zipped off towards town with a curt " Follow me."

Not to be outdone, I zipped after him--a bolt of lightning chasing a bolt of lightning. Roads, cars, houses, zombies--all passed by in a blur as I chased after my father, wondering what the next challenge would be.

He leapt atop a house in a neighborhood, and I followed; leaping rooftop after rooftop, defying the icy roofs that threatened to bring me down with a slip.

Zombies and virus-carriers crawled the streets below, never looking up, never even noticing the two superhuman figures dashing by.

Dad came to a halt atop a six or seven story building overlooking a snowy street below where two dozen or more non-virused and fully uniformed UBCS soldiers stood shivering, keeping a weary eye out for the ever-present zombies piling up in bloody heaps around their nervous circle. They seemed to be waiting for someone or something.

Dad grinned, noting my observations.

" This would be a kill or be killed situation." He said.

I opened my mouth to say that I didn't understand what he meant, but he gave me a rather rough shove just then that sent me tumbling downwards.

I used my fall-time to arrange myself into a position where I'd land on my feet, and I hit the ground in an explosion of snow right in the midst of the Umbrella soldiers.

" Kill him." Dad's voice brought home the terrifying reality of what he wanted me to do: fight these very human, very un_-zombified fully trained and armed Umbrella soldiers. Though I did notice that most of their weapons were not firearms. This _was _my next challenge. _

I had almost no time to react. The closest agents rushed me, pulling wicked knives that more closely resembled daggers.

This can't be right_, I thought, _These are normal people, they aren't bio-weapons_! Dad had never trained me to attack humans!_

" Wait a sec, I…" Unfortunately, the Umbrella soldiers were not in the habit of waiting.

A knife sliced through my shoulder, and someone kicked me in the back. 

They were mobbing me. I could see it in their faces; their angry, crazed expressions. I didn't know what Dad told them to get them to fight with such a passion, but they meant killing.

I punched the nearest knife-guy in the jaw, effectively breaking it and sending him backwards with a painful yelp.

" Listen, I don't want to…" But the mob was beyond listening. Now they were in a frenzied bloodlust, and I was the object of their hate.

For just a second, I caught sight of Dad's wicked smile from atop the building. But only for a second, because the metallic click of a handgun being cocked returned my attention to the crowd.

I zipped forward and plowed a guy over, narrowly avoiding a bullet with my name on it.

The crowd went wild, their angry shouts surrounding me, smothering me. Directly in front of me, ten or twelve rushed to the attack. 

It was right then that it finally sunk in: kill or be killed. These crazy people weren't going to give me the time to do anything else.

Which was a shame, because all I had really wanted to do was escape them.

So I gave in, turning my body into a deadly killing machine, whirling and kicking, hitting and dodging blows all in a whirlwind movement.

Several of my assailants got their noses smashed through their brains. Several more got their own knives through their heads and necks.

There was no time for mercy, no time to stop.

A soldier grabbed my neck and I whipped around, catching him so hard in the face with my fist that it actually took his head off.

" That's it, don't show them any mercy! " Dad crowed from somewhere above, " They won't show you any! "

The bodies started piling up, drenching the snow as well as myself in a wash of blood.

I surrendered to the bloodlust, allowing it to consume me, to overtake me. I was killing people left and right, an even the soldiers lucky enough to have a gun did not manage to escape my wrath.

A few lost their nerve and ran, and I gave chase, murdering them before they even reached the next street. Everything was a weapon: lampposts, car parts, anything I could get my hands on I used to stab through their chests or bash them over the head with. I even used a hubcap from a car as a deadly frisbee, smashing a guy in the back of the head while he turned to run from me.

Then I turned my attention the last survivor. He turned to rn, but I was on him in an instant, grabbing his throat.

" Please! Please don't kill me! " He begged, his brown eyes staring up at me like death itself. He was around my age, and he trembled terribly in my powerful grasp. " Let me go! I swear, I'll never bother you again! I'll even quit Umbrella. Just please, don't kill me! I don't want to die! "

The plea brought me to my senses as the full horror of what I had done hit home.

No…no! I can't…god, what have I done?! _I dropped the young man._

" Run," I ordered, " get as far away from here as you can! " 

He didn't wait to be told twice. With one last terrified glance over his shoulder, he turned and ran, as if the very hounds of Hell were at his heels.

I turned and examined the graphic scene where I had fought my battle.

The Umbrella soldiers were all dead. Their lifeless bodies littered the ground like victims on a battlefield, and almost every square inch of the disturbed snow was red with blood.

Nausea swelled up inside me--I had really done all that_? The thought sickened me. I was shocked at how easily I'd lost control._

A gentle night snow began sifting down in big, sloppy flakes, as if the sky itself were attempting to hide my mess.

Zombies nearing the scene didn't even bother me--instead they made a feast of those I'd slain.

It was while I stood there, horrified by what I had done, that Dad finally leapt down from his snowy perch and joined me, regarding the massacre with approving eyes.

" Nicely done. But you let one get away. What is with that? "

I turned on my father, angry at him for setting me up in this situation. He'd forced me to kill. 

He'd forced me to kill, and for one horrible moment I had liked it.

" I didn't want to do it! " I shouted, aware that zombies and virus-carriers would be the only other ones that would hear me, " But they wouldn't stop! "

Dad laid a hand on my shoulder, and I quickly pushed it away, snarling. " Why'd you do that? " 

Judging by the types of weapons they'd had made it even more obvious that this had all been a setup. Had they all been brandishing machine guns, I was sure, the battle would've had a much different outcome.

Dad just smiled in that way of his, amused by my outburst. " We all have a dark side to us. You see mine all the time, now you've just witnessed yours. Magnificent, isn't it? You can be just as ruthless as me. It makes me proud."

" Yeah? Well it makes me sick_! " I argued, brushing the falling snow from my shirt, feeling unworthy of it's kiss._

" Sorry you had to learn the hard way," Dad fibbed, " but sometimes, Son, the hard way is the only way. I'm only trying to rid you of your weaknesses."

" You are not! " I snapped, " You're trying to strip me of my humanity! Look sat those guys…" I gestured to all of my kills laying about, " you didn't even arm them adequately. You knew it would be a massacre."

Dad nods. " True. But would you rather I had given them machine guns and rocket-launchers? "

I turned away, snorting. " Hmphf. Chris was right about you. You're nothing but a murderer."

I'd ended up on my butt in the snow before I knew it. " How many times have I told you not to use that name around me? " Dad growled in a dangerously low voice.

Feeling rather rebellious, I replied, " Oh, what am I supposed_ to call him? He-Which-Shall-Not-Be-Named? Or would 'Redfield' work better for you?" I regained my footing and met him eye-to-eye. _

It was a tense moment; Dad's face fixed into a snarl akin to an ogre who had just missed breakfast. 

Then, much to my surprise, it was replaced by a wicked smirk. " Actually, 'Dead' would work better for me, but Chris is not the topic of conversation right now. I'm proud of your skills, but your attitude could use some tweaking."

" Yeah," I muttered grimly, " because it is just not right when a serial killer isn't happy in his work."

Again Dad placed a hand on my shoulder, but this time I didn't feel quite so rushed to brush it off. " So you slaughtered a few numbskull Umbrella agents. It's not like they didn't deserve it. It was bastards like them that murdered William, remember? I have every reason to harbor a grudge."

" I thought you said Claire killed William." I brought up, remembering mention of it in the past.

" Depends on how you look at it." Dad grumbled, smacking the head off a zombie who dared to venture too near, " Red Umbrella originally went in to steal the G-virus, I guess William just got in their way…"

" But **you** wanted to steal the G-virus too."

Dad laughed a bit sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck, " How do you know that?"

" HCF files. Amazing what people are willing to show you when you have a super-virus."

" Yeah, well I wasn't going to kill William for the virus…he was one of the few friends I ever had. Even if I did plan on betraying him…anyway, getting back on track, it was the Umbrella mercenaries who shot him full of more holes than Bonnie and Clyde. That's why he had to inject himself with the G-virus. It was his only chance. Saw the whole thing happening on camera. Unfortunately, it mutated him beyond recognition and killed most of his brain cells, so he ended up a stupid monster that Claire put down. So you see, it really depends on your viewpoint."

I kicked the snow, saddened by the memory. I had liked William, despite his being a mad scientist, and it was truly horrible what had happened to him.

Then a thought occurred, " Didn't you say that William also created the T-2 virus?"

Dad nodded. " Yes. Where do you think I got it? It was one of his earlier works. I helped. A little."

I slapped a hand to my face, processing, " So let me get this straight: our friend Birkin created T-2 virus **before**_ the G-virus? And ours gives us superpowers while his mutated and stupified him? I'm no viral expert, but don't you think that's maybe going a step backward?"_

Dad shrugged, " I think he just overlooked the potential of T-2."

" I'll say!" I blurted, " Because if he had used **that** instead of the G-virus, he might still be around today."

Dad turned and headed away, clearly wishing to get off the William topic. Not that I blamed him. Nobody likes discussing how their friends died. " C'mon. We've got places to go, plans to ruin, people to kidnap."

With a disheartened sigh, I followed.

I was mortified by what I'd done, and it seemed wrong that it had been so easy for me to get off-topic. I was truly an emotional mess right then. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if I was downright evil, borderline evil, or even clinically insane.

I kept telling myself that I didn't like killing people, yet I stayed with the very man who wanted to turn me into a killing machine.

Of course, Dad and I completed the mission and were rewarded grandly by a pleased HCF.

But I never forgot the horrors of that night.


	26. Crushed

**__**

A/N: Another 'R' rated chapter. You've been warned. ( Refer to new notes heading Chapter 1. )

**Chapter 26**

I know Miles, but it is the first time I have heard his name. He was the one life I spared in my bloody rampage three years ago.

Of course now, seeing him glowering at me, laughing at my helplessness while my mother lies dying on a hospital bed, I wish I hadn't. Some people never learn from their mistakes.

His was getting involved with my family.

" What, now you're going to pretend you don't remember that one snowy Iowan night? " Miles scratches his throat, and I think maybe I will strangle him, " You killed my brother that night. You made me beg for my life. Well, now I will enjoy watching you beg for your mother's." His lip curls into a sadistic grin, " You know what they say about payback."

I pretend to be deep in thought, " Your brother…my memory fails me, was he the tough guy I skewered with a lamppost, or the imbecile who jumped me with a combat knife? " To anyone else, I would have apologized. I am not proud of that one night I lost control, and I haven't lost control since. But Miles is really rubbing me the wrong way, and I have no doubt that if I get free tonight, I will spill more human blood. 

I have pressed the right buttons.

Furious, Miles turns on Dr. Otson. " I say we kill her now! Kill her and make him watch! "

Dr. Otson shakes his head, smarter than he looks, " Mrs. Wesker stays alive for the time being, my quick-tempered friend. We kill her, and Alan'll never give us what we want." He turns to me, beady eyes brimming with anticipation. " And what we want is…your blood." He shoves a pudgy hand into his labcoat pocket and pulls out a syringe, " You following, Mr. Wesker? "

I glare fiercely into the eyes of the quack Dr., causing him to blink.

He is afraid of me. He is worried what might happen to him should I escape.

Miles, on the other hand, is confident in the delusion that I will _never_ escape.

Perhaps the obese doctor isn't so dumb after all. Not when compared to his weasely assistant, anyway.

" Yeah! " Miles pipes up, " You give us your blood and…wait a minute," He turns back to Dr. Otson, " why don't we just kill him and take his blood? "

Dr. Otson shakes his head, tsk-tsking. " Easy there, Killer. Wesker's son is worth far more to us alive. Besides, we made need him as bait to trap his father."

Miles frowns, truly upset that he can't just murder me and be done with it, " What about drugging him? "

Dr. Otson grows annoyed, " We don't know what, if any, effect that would have on him. Might not do a thing, or it might react violently with his virus. Blackmail is so much more practical in this case, my eager assistant."

" Fine, fine." Miles mutters miserably. 

Dr. Otson points a thick finger in the direction of the filing cabinet. " I believe you know what to do."

With a curt nod, the ex-UBCS member heads for the filing cabinet in the corner of the room.

" Such a pity," Dr. Otson sighs, examining the helpless form of my mother almost regretfully, " She is such a beautiful specimen."

" And you're a fat pig! " I growl. It is not much of an exaggeration. That man looks as if he has been living on donuts and pizza for the last thirty years. The only time he probably ever jogs is when the ice-cream truck is pulling out.

And I dislike hearing my mother referred to as a 'specimen'.

Dr, Otson faces me with an intense frown. " It would be wise to watch what you say with your mother's life on the line."

The scent of gunpowder hits me like a wave, and even before Miles finishes pulling it out of the cabinet I know he has a gun.

Chuckling evilly, he takes it over to the stretcher where my mother is still out cold.

I watch with horror as he presses the cold metal into her throat, finger hovering millimeters over the trigger.

" He does tend to get trigger-happy." Dr. Otson laughs, approaching my cage until only the laser bars and mere inches separate us.

I wonder how funny he'd feel with no arms.

" No, really now," He straightens, attaining a more serious posture, " Give us your blood, and I guarantee you no further harm will come to your mother." He holds the syringe carefully between the sizzling bars of the cage, totally unaware that it would be a simple matter for me to grab the syringe and yank him into the deadly bars too quickly for him to react should I feel so inclined.

And that's just what I would do, if not for the fact that Miles would kill Mom.

I take hold of the syringe, checking my killer urge, and draw it slowly into my cage.

Mom stirs a bit on her bed, and Miles watches her intently, ready to pull the trigger at the faintest provocation. She looks so tired and drained…it wrenches my heart to see her like this. She never did anything to deserve this kind of torture.

_This is for you, Mom. _I think as I prick the needle into my wrist and watch the tube fill up with my special ichor.

" Uh-oh, we have problems. " Miles's sudden remark startles me, " Alexia! "

" Believe me, I get out of here, and I'll make Alexia look like your best friend." I sneer, following the direction of Miles's nervous eyes.

There on the view screen, nosing around a laundry room, is Alexis, not Alexia. Though I have to admit that Alexis does in fact bear a strong resemblance to her mother, it is not strong enough for them to be mistaken for identical twins. In addition to the widow's peak on Alexis's forehead, there are some other very noticeable differences between the two. Alexis's features are laid out a bit differently, and she doesn't have quite as harsh a look about her. Plus she's a lot younger. No way I'd ever confuse the two. 

" She's getting closer! " Miles sound petrified. 

Dr. Otson studies the image nervously. " That's the room just next door! "

I resist the urge to laugh out loud. They want to think it's Alexia, let 'em think it's Alexia.

The mad doctor rushes to the screens, and now his head is blocking my view. " She's coming in! " 

At that very instant, the door behind my laser cage creaks open and a bewildered Alexis steps into the room.

" Alexia! " I holler, winking at Alexis in hopes that she will understand.

Miles has a gun, but he may feel far less inclined to use it if he thinks he's dealing with the girl from his nightmares.

Yet I am still very worried for Alexis's safety. I can see now that she is carrying no firearm, and it's very possible that Miles could kill her. Her very survival may depend on her acting skills. I silently pray for her.

For a split second, Alexis is shocked and completely silent as she takes in her new surroundings.

" M…Miss Alexia, p…please don't k…k…kill me." Fortunatley, Miles is not only bloodthirsty, he is downright stupid if he thinks such a plea would work on Alexia. 

In his fright, he pulls the trigger.

Mom! He killed my mother! I watch with horror as Mom takes her last painful breath, the bullet embedding itself deep into her chest in a spray of red.

At that moment, it is as if time stops. A wild fury rages within me. I want him dead!

I prepare to lunge, then leap back, hissing in rage at the red lasers that imprison me. I want out!

" The Weskers are mine! I should flay you groveling worms alive! " Alexis sneers, assuming the role of her evil mother and doing her best to ignore me and not show her true reaction to Mom being shot.

Clever girl.

She prances past my laser cage and right for them, with the air of a true queen.

Dr. Otson looks like he's about to have a heart-attack. " Alexia, we've…" He stops mid-sentence. Out of the corner of his eye, he has caught sight of the _true _Alexia in another room with Alfred. She's throwing fire at a zombie, thus leaving no doubt to her true identity. 

Uh-oh. That can't be good!

Luckily, Alexis notices too.

" Hey…you're not Alexia! " 

" Good guess." Alexis dives for Miles's gun.

" Get the remote out of his pocket! " I yell, " Then you can free me! " I seriously want to hurt these people. I get out of here, I will murder them. 

And for once, I will not feel a twinge of remorse. They killed my mother, they deserve to be cut open and thrown in a hog-pit! I can't ever remember hating anyone this much.

Of course, my last remark made Miles fight all the harder. He doesn't want me to get free. A well-justified fear, because he is the one I want to kill the most.

Alexis is in Miles's grip now, wrestling him for the gun.

'Bam!' Another shot goes off, barely missing an enraged Dr. Otson. 

Darnit.

He flings himself into the fight, attempting to tackle Alexis football-style. But she dodges at just the right moment, and the overweight man nails Miles instead.

Taking advantage of their awkward moment, Alexis grabs a coffee cup from off a counter nearby and busts Dr. Otson over the head with it.

It's enough to daze the doctor, but not quite knock him out.

Miles struggles from under his partner, and Alexis grabs his gun.

" Give it up, Blondie! " For a brief second, he releases one hand from his gun and brings it up into her jaw.

Alexis staggers back a bit, but does not relinquish her grip.

Frustrated, Miles swings the gun violently to one side in an attempt to shake her hold, and the trigger _again_ goes off; this time piercing my mother's side!

I can't help but to cry out.

Two people are going to be seriously dead when I get out of here!

Neither Alexis nor Miles has time to see where the stray bullet hit. 

" Alexis, look out! " I call, warning her that Dr. Otson is getting back up and into the game.

The mad doctor charges like a bull.

Acting quickly, Alexis finally surrenders the gun and grabs Miles by the arm, using ever ounce of her strength to swing him towards my cage.

" Ahhhhhh! " Miles screams in agony as the laser bar of my cage nips his left elbow, rendering it bloody and neatly sliced. He only barely pulls away before I would've grabbed him. The scent of his burning flesh fills the room, and blood spills into my cage, vaporizing where it touches the lasers.

While he is distracted, Alexis manages to take the gun and shoots him in the abdomen.

He crumples to the floor, writhing in pain, and Alexis's hand darts into his pocket, and emerges second later with the remote to my cage.

Oh goody!

" Who are you? " Miles gasps, backing into the wall directly in front of my cage, his fearful eyes now looking up to Alexis who has the gun pointed at him.

Alexis grins evilly, and for once it is not a phony expression. " Me? I'm an Ashford. Alexia's daughter." Her eyes shift to Dr. Otson, now backing away into his own little corner, hands raised.

" Please Miss, we never met to hurt anyone! " A lame attempt for an excuse if ever there was one. 

" Yes you did." Alexis's tone is not friendly. Her eyes burn with a blue fire, and she narrows them on Miles.

Miles sighs. " I suppose you're going to kill us then? Please don't, I…"

Alexis does not allow him to finish. " I'm not going to kill you," She says rather calmly, casting an eye to my cage.

" Oh good…" He has spoken too soon.

" I'm pretty sure Alan there won't need my help."

" _What?! _"

Alexis tries a couple different buttons on the remote. My cage bars fade and then disappear altogether.

Miles stares at my like Death itself. " Oh sh…"

I lunge, grabbing Miles roughly by the head.

" Be quick." Alexis's saddened voice calls from somewhere behind me.

Miles knows he has met his Waterloo. " What she said." He pleads, clenching his eyes firmly shut, " I hope you burn in Hell! "

" Save me a room." I reply, twisting his head violently and effectually breaking every bone in his neck with a sickening snap. He deserved so much more. Too bad I didn't have to the time to hand him over to my dad for an out-and-out torture. He knows more about that stuff than I do.

Movement from the corner catches my eye. Dr.Otson fidgets near the cabinet, probably hoping to draw out some other weapon or device to trap us. Too bad he will not get the chance.

Yet I do not feel like getting my hands dirty this time. Without warning, I simply snatch the gun from Alexis's hand and fire a shot into his head. He drops like a sack of potatos, and I drop the smoking gun to the floor.

Mom. I approach her, her eyes closed and lying so lifelike she appears not to be dead, but merely sleeping. As if she could awaken at any moment.

I yank the wires from her now peaceful body and graze a hand against her still warm cheek, gently caressing it, as if it can offer some comfort in her soul's journey to the afterlife.

She's gone.

My mother is gone.

The same woman who used to tuck me in bed at nights, who used to sing to me and play with me. The woman who used to watch my school plays and stand up for me when no one else would. She loved me. She believed in me. And now she is dead.

A thin white blanket lies unceremoniously in a heap at the end of her bed. I cover her body with it until nothing but locks of her dark brown hair can be seen hanging over the sides of the stretcher. Something warm, wet, and salty trickles down my cheek.

Am I…crying? Haven't done that in a while. As in years.

If only I had gotten here sooner! If only I had killed Miles the first time we met! If only…too many 'if only's.

I hurt inside. But it is a pain like no other--a pain not even my virus can cure--which aches and aches.

I never even got to say goodbye! I never said anything to her since yesterday when she first radioed for help. I told her I was coming. I came too late.

I pass my mother's final resting place and stand to face the wall.

This isn't fair! She didn't deserve this!

My mind flashes again to Miles, and my anger flares up stronger than ever before.

Enrage--and wishing I had been more useful--I ram my fist into the wall as hard as I can. And that's pretty damn hard.

Chunks of wood and plaster explode under my knuckles, and my arm sinks through the gaping hole where my fist closes on air on the other side.

" Why did it have to be like this?! " I rage, halfway wishing Miles were still alive so I could make him deader, " _Why?! _"

A hand falls upon my shoulder.

I free my arm and spin around, ready to take the person's head off.

Alexis backs up a bit, startled. " I…I'm sorry, Alan. We did what we could. I think she would've appreciated our efforts."

I sigh, forcing myself to calm down. She's right. I was laser-caged, and if I had tried to escape, I wouldn't have been any use to Mom anyway in neatly-sliced strips.

There was nothing I could've done.

Alexis casts her eyes to my mom, then downward, silently grieving for me. But she couldn't possibly understand…she never knew my mother.

Then, " Is that yours? " She points to the forgotten vial of blood I dropped on the floor while I was preoccupied. 

Without a word, or even a gesture to show I even heard her, I go over and pick it up.

" My blood…" I twist the tube in my hand, holding it up into the light and gazing intently into the red elixir. It looks perfectly normal. Looks can be deceiving. Within that red liquid somewhere lies a powerful virus, perhaps the only good virus ever to exist. " This was what they were after. It would be a bad idea leave this just lying around. Don't want somebody else picking it up."

With no other obvious solution in sight, I inject the blood back into my wrist where it belongs and drop the empty container to the floor. Heck, I'll heal quickly.

Now Alexis is at my side, wrapping her arms around me in a tight embrace, doing her best to comfort me.

I hug her back, taking extra care not to crush her. When she pulls away, I find myself wanting more.

" You looked like you needed a hug." She supplies with a sad smile, " Oh, and I don't know if I've said this before, but thanks for being there for me when Maggie died. That was when _I_ needed a hug." She gestures to the late Miles and Dr. Otson, " At least we got the jerks who did this."

I nod, still trying to come to grips. " Yes. The weird thing was, I thought killing Miles would make me feel better, bring me some sense of justice."

" Did it? "

" Maybe a little," I admit, " but not nearly as much as I thought it would. It didn't stop the pain. I guess time is the only cure for that." I sigh, " I wish I had time to move her, or at least have a funeral or something…it just seems wrong to leave her here, but…" I trail off, eyes fixed on the still form of my mother.

Dad and Spade aren't going to like this.

Wait a minute…Spade! She's still in the library! They're probably worried about me, I'd better hurry back to them.

" My sister," I blurt suddenly, " I left her in the library! "

I rush to the main computer, kicking Dr. Otson's body aside like an old bag of nails in the process.

I really don't want to travel through the ventilation shafts again, especially with Alexis. Too uncomfortable. Besides, exiting is always much less graceful than entering.

I'm pretty good with computers, so it takes me all of ten seconds to draw up a map of the place. Thankfully, our current position is highlighted in green. Much to my relief, the library is only a few rooms away. Getting there should be a breeze.

I turn away, making a mental note of the doors we must pass through for the quickest route.

" Come on." I lead the way out the door, with one last backward glance at my mother.

" Goodbye Mom." I whisper over my shoulder, struggling to hold back the tears that threaten to overwhelm me, " I tried. I love you."


	27. Redfield Kin

**Chapter 27**

The trip back to the library is not a pleasant one. All I can think about is my mother, and there aren't even any zombies or mutants for me to take my anger out on.

Alexis keeps close to my side, clearly wishing to comfort me, but not knowing quite what to say. 

Maybe it is for the best, I think. This is just one of those things that words can't fix.

Now I've lost my mother, and I feel terribly guilty about those years I spent away. _Just try not to think about it right now_, I tell myself, _I have a mission to complete--to make sure that nobody else I care about dies tonight_. Once it is all over, once we are out of Africa--then will be the time for grieving.

We've only a few more doors to go when one of them pops open and who else but a bunch of horribly disfigured zombies spill into the hallway.

It's about time.

Alexis freezes behind me. " Care to do the honors? " She inquires with the air of a person who has seen wayyy too many zombies to be overly shocked at seeing more. 

The world we live in. Isn't exactly a picnic in Candyland. 

" With pleasure! " I've been in the mood for a smack down ever since Mom's death.

Bad thing about thumping zombies is that they are just downright messy to thump. Many a time I have been left with foulsome zombie residue on my hands after an encounter.

Call me finicky, but there is just something about the rotting flesh of the undead that makes my skin crawl. Not to mention the odor.

Judging my distance, I leap up and kick--my foot connecting beneath the chin of the nearest zombie in an upward arch that takes it's head off. The corpse of the headless zombie falls to the floor even as it's severed melon detonates against the wall.

Two zombies at once! Both are clad in labcoats.

_Maybe they were the mad doctors behind the animal-human abominations_, I think as I knock them over and stomp their faces in.

So easy. Like taking candy from a baby. Not that I've ever experimented with that. Yet it feels good to have something solid to take my frustrations out on.

" Uhhhhnnn." Another zombie emerges from the party room, upset that it missed out on all the action. Dull, dead eyes stare straight ahead in a mindless trance; decaying arms stretch forward and bony fingers grasp at _me_: it's worst possible choice for a victim. Of course, Mr. Zombie cannot reason or learn from his fellow zombies' mistakes--all he knows is that he is hungry and Alexis and I look tasty.

Such a simple thought process. And the reason why I've slain hordes of zombies.

Pale, graying flesh is visible beneath the rags of what once may have passed for a shirt, exposing the zombie's weight problem. Mr. Zombie sure liked his food, even when he was alive.

" Don't worry big guy," I address the obese zombie, " It's your turn next." I grab him by the arm and yank downwards with enough force to send him toppling over like a redwood. He lands face-first in an awkward heap--an angry moan warning of his displeasure.

I smash his head in and gray brain matter explodes beneath my bootheel. So much for the resident zombies.

Unfortunately, the zombie mash was murder on my once-nice black boots. They are now covered in disgusting zombie grime.

Eu, the things I've stepped in!

Alexis notices me staring at my boots in disgust. " Yech, that's pretty gross." She comments, making a face.

" Well, yeah." I step around the rest of my kills, Alexis following carefully, " Zombies are pretty revolting. The smell alone could gag a maggot."

" And you have such a god sense of smell." Alexis chuckles with a sympathetic grin, " I'd hate to be you right now! "

" Yeah, I'm having a real picnic." I mutter, " I'll have to buy some new clothes once I get home."

" Speaking of home," Alexis adds, " Feel free to stay with me as longs as you need. Heck, stay forever if you want! It'd be nice to have a man around the house…or, anyone at all, really." Her face flushes a deep red, and she slaps a hand over her eyes, deeply embarrassed. " Well, that came out wrong, didn't it? "

I smile, touched by her offer, " Not at all. If you want me to stay, I'll stay. But only if you want me to."

When she removes her hand, a warm smile has lit up her face. " I'd like that. But…" worry chases away her smile, " Suppose Chris decides you're not working out? Will you still hang around Bayview? "

_For you, yes, _I think, but instead say, " Aw, don't worry. Chris and I like each other…and not in a gay way." I add quickly, realizing just how _wrong _that came out, " What I mean is, we've saved each other's lives before. We have an understanding. He may get fed up with me sometimes, but that's just because of the whole deal with my father. Heck, everyone gets upset with everyone once in a while. Human nature."

" I know." Alexis says thoughtfully, getting that dreamy, faraway look I have seen on her before, " You know, my family's all big on 'restoring glory to the Ashford name', but when you think about it, they're the ones who really drug our name through the mud so much. They want to blame it all on Grandfather, but Grandfather wasn't nearly as vicious as they are. He didn't get bases destroyed or mutate into a giant dragonfly-ant-giant octopus thingie either. And as far as I know, he didn't turn on his own family. Besides, not making major viral breakthroughs is a _good_ thing. To tell you the truth, I can't find a single redeeming Ashford up through my entire family line since before Veronica. It's a scary fact. I'm like, descended from evil and insanity." 

" Hey, preaching to the choir." I state, entering the next room which happens to be filled with more creepy porcelain dolls than anyone ever had good reason to be obsessed with, " My dad's killed more people than Ebola virus. After all the things he's done, I can't say I'm particularly proud of my last name. Especially since that's what he goes by."

" I've noticed. Why is that, anyway? "

" He just hates his first name. Besides, _Wesker_ has so much more of an edge to it than _Albert_."

Alexis shrugs, eyeing the creepy dolls curiously, " Albert's not an unusual name. I've known a few Alberts in school."

" Me too," I confess, " and all of them were fat." I chuckle a bit, " I guess that's why I picture a fat kid when I hear that name. Of course, I've never shared that with my father."

Alexis laughs, joining in on the fun, " I used to watch 'Batman' all the time when I was little, and Mrs. Phelps used to complain because it was more of a boys' show and I was a girl. But then Mr., Rosken would point to the screen and say I watched it because my father was in it, and they'd both have a good laugh at that. Of course, he was pointing to the joker when he said that, but there _is_ and Alfred in Batman. He's nothing like my father though."

" Anymore than your brother is like Pokemon's Ash." I agree.

We have now reached the library, and I jerk the door open to find an anxious Spade and Natasha awaiting. They are extremely relieved to see us.

" Alan! " Spade cheers, " I'm glad you're alright! You were gone for a long time and…" She pauses, studying Alexis. That's right, Alexis and Spade have never met.

" This is my friend Alexis." I introduce, " Alexis, meet my sister Spade. Natasha you've already met."

Alexis curtsies politely. " How do you do, Spade. I love your name by the way."

Spade grins. " Thanks. Wow, you're pretty. You must be an Ashford."

Alexis is flattered. " Thank you! You don't look so bad yourself. You're right, I'm an Ashford. But I'm not evil, just so we're clear."

" Sorry about the delay," I announce, " but…I had some problems with a pair of mad doctors."

My heart thuds against my chest. I have to tell her. I have to tell Spade that our mother is dead. But how?

I must look pretty stressed out because Alexis goes over to stand by Natasha near the red chair; grim-faced and nervously running her fingers through her hair.

Spade knows something's up. " What? Has something happened? " Her tone is dead-serious and over the brim with worry.

It was so much easier when Alexis and I were talking on the way over here. For a moment--just a moment--I was able to forget. Now I have to deal with it all over again.

Gulp, here goes. " Spade I…I have something to tell you. Mom is…" I choke on the word, unable to force it out. I bite my lip and taste the coppery tang of my own blood, struggling to avoid a total breakdown.

I have to be strong. Mom would want me to be strong.

But my delay has already betrayed me. Spade is the picture of nervous. Her eyes twitch and moisten, and she is on the verge of her own breakdown. " What? Mom is _what? _"

I look to the floor, not wanting to see the hurt in her eyes when she hears the terrible news. " Dead." My voice comes out in a trembling half-whisper.

" _Dead?! _" Spade repeats, voice cracking, " What did…how did it happen?! "

I glance to Alexis and Natasha, both leaning against the back of the chair and visibly upset. " She was…Mom was in the lab I got to. One of the mad doctors shot her with a gun before I could do anything. I'm sorry. I tried." I don't bother mentioning that I murdered the people responsible. The night has seen enough death.

Spade can't hold it back. With one sad 'No', she rushes into me like a freight train, burying her face into my shirt and soaking it with her tears.

I press one hand behind her back in what I hope is a comforting hug whilst stroking her silky black hair with the other. Save her heart-rending sobs, the room falls into a deathly silence.

I want to comfort her, to tell her it's going to be okay, but it will not be and I know it. I can't make it right. I can't bring her back. 

This is truly the saddest moment in my life. Losing Mom was horrible, but seeing my sister in so much pain is too much.

Spade's sobs are out of control now. Her hot tears sting my flesh through my shirt. I want to join her, but remind myself that I have to be the strong one for her sake if no other. Now that Mom is gone, it is especially important that I watch over my little sis. We have no other close kin…Dad and I are all she has.

" I know this is hard…but you'll always have me. You're not alone in this." I sooth, keeping my voice as level as possible.

" Yeah," Natasha adds, looking on the verge of tears herself, " Losing your parents is hard. I lost both of mine. It's not something you can just get over." Her grim tone matches the overall misery of the room.

For once, I do not feel like slapping her. Natasha _can _take things seriously after all. Who'd have guessed?

I'm feeling a little guilty now about being so rough with her awhile ago. Perhaps that was just her way of dealing. Even worse, my dad killed her dad, and she found out just yesterday that Enrico is dead. I really should cut the girl some slack. Even if she did almost get us killed, it was--like she said--unintentional.

Alexis has a tear in her eye; perhaps the most un-Ashford thing she could do.

The door suddenly whooshes open, and I jump about a mile.

I should have heard that coming! I guess I got too wrapped up in the present circumstances.

Much to my surprise though, it is not an Ashford, supertyrant, my dad, nor any of the S.T.A.R.S. team, but an older man carrying a shotgun that enters the room.

He has short, mostly graying hair and sideburns, and muscular but not large figure. Blue jeans and a button-up hill-billy fashion shirt make up his attire. I would place him anywhere from sixty to seventy years old.

Clearly not from Umbrella, but where did he come from? Even more, how did he manage to survive this city to make it down here in the first place? I don't detect the scent of any viruses in his blood, but he does smell kind of like Chris. Weird.

" I heard the noise and came to investigate." The stranger explains, " Who died? " He bites his lower lip nervously, like a frightened rabbit.

Which, given the circumstances, is a perfectly logical reaction.

His arrival is a bit suspicious, but he doesn't _feel_ evil, and I am not really worried.

" Our mother." I sigh sadly.

It is as if a switch were flicked. If he was panicky before, the man is _really_ worried now. His somewhat wrinkled features pull back in the lines of absolute fright.

" What's your name? "

" Who's? _Mine? _" I ask, startled by his reaction. What is with this guy?

The old man nods quickly, anxious.

" I'm Alan. Who are you? "

" Thomas Redfield." His voice is rushed, " I meant, what's your _last_ name? "

" Wesker." I frown, " Did you say your last name was Redfield? "

Thomas nods, a nervous wreck, " Yes. Tell me…what was your mother's name? "

" Clarice. Why is…" 

Thomas never lets me finish. He drops to his knees, moaning with such intensity it would make a zombie jealous. " Nooo! " He drops the shotgun as if it had suddenly transmogrified into a live coal.

Spade pulls away from me, equally as shocked by Thomas's display. At least she isn't crying anymore.

" Did you know her? " Alexis asks softly.

Thomas nods like a puppet. " Yes. She was my daughter."

" Your _daughter?! _" Spade gasps, " Then I guess that would make my brother and I your grandchildren! We're her kids."

It's plausible--I never actually met any of my grandparents with the exception of Dad's mom. But she died nearly ten years ago.

" Yes." Thomas agrees, " She was my daughter, and if you are her kids, then you are my grandchildren. I came as quickly as I could--I traced her disappearance for months and a recent lead lead me here. But I guess I was too late."

That makes two of us. " We were too late." I confess, " She was shot."

" Shot?! By whom?! " Thomas--I just cannot think of him as 'Grandpa' right now--rises swiftly, a sudden anger flaring in his eyes. He recovers his rifle. " Who did it? "

" Don't worry, they're already dead." 

Thomas relaxes, satisfied. " A monster got 'em? "

" Actually…yeah. That's exactly what happened." When I get mad, I can be a real monster. But someone would have to piss me off pretty badly before I'd result to murder. Killing friends and family members is the best way to qualify.

Then it dawns on me: if Thomas is a Redfield…" Do you know Chris and Claire Redfield? " I ask.

" Why? Are they in trouble? " His jittery actions say it all. He _does _know them. Probably at least decently well, judging be the way he's acting.

I shake my head, not wishing to wind him up, " Not that I know of. Chris is the commander of my team. We came here to rescue my mother and sister after we got a radio message from her yesterday."

" I got a message too." Thomas nods, staring straight into my eyes. " What's wrong with your eyes? "

Oh brother. I hate having to explain this all the time. " Nothing, they're fine. I have a virus. Not a bad one, but it makes my eyes like this. Don't worry, it's not contagious. Now, do you know Chris and Claire or not? " I don't mean to be snippy, but I hate it when people beat around the bush.

Thomas nods sadly. " Sure do. They're my other children."

My jaw drops. " Your _other_ children?! But if Chris and Claire are your son and daughter, and my mother is your daughter, then that would mean…that would make… "

Thomas finishes for me. " That's right. Chris and Claire are your uncle and aunt."

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Res1kna4: _Thanks for all your reviews! I know I've been leaving a few holes lately, but this is a long story. I promise they will all be filled in due time though! ^_~ _

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Everyone else: _I hope you liked this chapter! ^^_


	28. Sparks of Hope

**Chapter 28**

What?! I'm related to the Redfields? Oh man, Dad is not going to like_ that_! " But…how's that possible? They never mentioned a sister, and Mom never said anything about you or Chris and Claire. I don't even think her maiden name was Redfield. How could…I _can't_ be related to the Redfields! " 

I must have a very funny look on my face, because Thomas actually manages a quick chuckle. " Wanna bet? All right, I'll explain, but on the way to finding Chris and the rest of your team. It's dangerous out there."

_You have no idea. _I think, mind racing. 

Chris is my uncle? Unbelievable! But if there's anything I've learned over the past few years, it's that almost anything is possible. Thomas does look like he could be the Redfield sibs' father, though he looks in no way like Spade or I. Spade does resemble Claire a bit though, especially around the eyes. My looks, of course, go without saying: I've gotten the nickname Wesker Jr. for a reason.

So Mom was the sister of Claire and Chris. That would make my father their brother-in-law.

Yipes! I have a feeling this is not going to sit well with Dad. Married all those years to a Redfield without ever knowing it! I have a feeling any family reunions we have will be bloody events. Now that I think of it, my father was never really big on family anyways, other than Mom and us kids.

I wonder how Chris will take the news? 

Poor Seth and Crystal. Their true marriage uncle tried to murder them. Hey, that would also make them my cousins…..suddenly, I'm finding all kinds of relatives! Jill's my aunt. Steve is going to be my uncle.

Does it get any weirder? If I didn't know any better, I'd swear I was starring in someone's soap opera. Seriously, how often do people find out their friends are in fact related to them? It's a strange experience. 

" Alan! " 

" Huh? " I blink, and Alexis points to my pocket.

" Hello, Earth to Alan." Natasha pipes, " Do you still have that radio? You know, the one you called Chris on? "

I nod slowly. " Uh-huh."

I'm Chris and Claire's nephew….

" Snap out of it! " Spade elbows me in the side.

Oops! " Oh, the radio." I reach into my pocket and pull the communications device out with what must be a sheepish grin. " Sorry about that. It's…a lot to process."

I hold the button in and say, " Does anyone read? "

Seconds later, my reply: " Alan? I hope you have some good news. We rescued Carlos, but we're running low on ammunition and there's still no sign of Rebecca or Alexandra. Did you find what was making the noises? "

" Uh-huh. My mother…she's dead." It is a truth I have a hard time facing.

" Aw, that's too bad." Chris says grimly, and I can tell by his tone he really means it, " I'm really sorry."

" Yeah. Me too. I'm with Natasha, Spade, and Alexis right now. Oh, and we have a surprise visitor--your dad."

" What?! " Chris's surprise registers clearly over the background static.

" May I? " Thomas holds his palm out, and I give him the radio. Let him do the explaining.

" Alan's right," Thomas addresses his son, " I'm here. Where are you? Maybe we could arrange a meeting place? "

" Dad?! What are _you _doing here? "

Thomas frowns in response, not that Chris can see. " Actually…It's a long story. I'll tell you in person. Now, what's your position? " 

" We're by the big water fountain in front of the mansion past the Northern boundary of Sambabwia. Know where that's at? "

" Yes."

" Good, we can meet here then. Are you far? "

" Not really…we'll try to make it as quick as we can."

" Roger. We'll be waiting."

The transmission goes slack, and Thomas hands the radio back to me. " Hear that everyone? Let's go! "

Thomas starts to the door as if he were going out for nothing more than a casual stroll in the park. Natasha and Spade follow--side by side, with me and Alexis playing the caboose.

I must admit that I'm a little miffed at Thomas for making all the arrangements. I'll give him credit for surviving this place as long as he has, but he can't possibly know what he's getting into! I probably should try and take the lead. That way, I can be the first to encounter the nasties. Including my less-than-understanding father.

" So, how is it that…" Spade starts, rushing to walk alongside 'Grandfather' and paying us in the back of the herd no heed. However, the rest of what she says is lost to me. 

" I think it's cool that you're related the Redfields." Alexis supplies, diverting my attention and grabbing my hand as we start down the loathsome hallways of doom, " They're good people."

I nod, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, " I know. It's just….weird, that's all. I wasn't prepared for it." I keep my tone silent, a mere half-whisper. Ahead, Spade and Thomas continue with their conversation, Natasha joining in.

" One of life's little curveballs." Alexis notes, keeping her voice low, " There's no way you can be prepared for something like that."

She gives me a wane smile, and that's when I notice something around her neck. It's an elegant black cloth choker, with the only highlight being an oval-shaped glittering white diamond attached to what looks like two silver wings that jut from either side of the gem with the 'wings' tapering down and dripping into separate kinda-looks-like-a-deer's-hindlegs that dip slightly below the main jewel to almost touch. The piece itself is fixed firmly to the choker and reminds me a little of an ancient Egyptian scarab. It's pretty, but I have to wonder where she got it. I'm pretty sure that wasn't there when we started this mission.

" Oh, you like my new choker? " Alexis asks, seeing my eyes on her jewelry and probably sensing an impending question, " It's my Ashford proof. At least, that's what my father said when he gave it to me."

" Ah, so it was an Alfred gift." Maybe there's hope for the man yet. I'm not going to hold my breath though. 

Ahead, Natasha giggles at something Spade said, and I notice we are now a good ten feet behind them. We have reached the end of the hall, and now Thomas is leading the way up a set of stairs. Not the way I came--the old man must've found a different way into this rattrap. Though I keep my eyes and ears open for danger, I look to Alexis and find my thoughts drifting. 

" Actually," Alexis continues, allowing her fingers to slip out of my hand, " there's something I have to tell you. Remember that crypt where you found me? Remember that room that had pictures of my parents and that plaque that said '_The pride and legacy of the Ashford twins?_' "

" Yes. What of it? " We take the stairs slowly, careful not to trip into anyone.

" Well…after the whole deal where you fell down that pit and Wesker jumped in after you, I came back to the crypt. With my father."

" What happened? " 

" Dad was acting kinda weird. He gave me this choker and said that it was intended for me alone and a family proof. He seemed a little sad about something, but he never told what. Instead, we went into that room, and he pricked himself with a pin, dropping a few drops of his blood into that circular indention. Turns out, that whole room was actually an elevator and the blood opened up a hidden button panel in the marble column. Using this, he was able to access an underground hidden hangar. My family's jet was there, along with one other. He told me to run to the jets and save myself if worst came to worst and things really started getting out of control. Ashford blood placed in a panel near the entrance will open the hangar, which he said was disguised to look like a rocky outcropping."

" So you're thinking that maybe we could snag one of those jets once we have everyone." I conclude, liking the sound of the idea. Dad has the vitals of our jet, so he can just use _it_ to escape in. The jets Alexis mentioned are much closer and more convenient, especially since I won't have to fight my father to get one operational.

The stairs lead outside, and I inhale the crisp morning air deeply, taking in the leafy surroundings and noting the narrow stone path we are following. The trees and plants are very high here, making it all but impossible to see anything but a few feet in front. And the trail is so twisty I think maybe they followed a snake when they were making it. At least it isn't as hot or humid out now, we have that to be thankful for.

The others are still gabbing away--for all they know, Alexis and I could've been abducted by supertyrants. I haven't seen them look back once.

" Did your dad mention anything else? "

" Just one thing," Alexis says, troubled, " He told me he loved me. Well, those weren't his exact words, but what he said was pretty much the same thing. After that we came back up and he went off to regroup with Mom and Ash. But yeah, I'm thinking we can use one of those jets to escape if we have to." She looks away, watches a bird flitter in the branches of a big tree up ahead. I can tell the encounter upset her.

I find this intriguing…out of all of Alexis's corrupted Ashford family, it sounds like Alfred has the closest thing resembling a conscience. Though he definitely isn't winning any awards for kindness--or sanity, either, for that matter--he has proven that he has the ability to love. Probably he can love most passionately. And he is loyal to Alexia in the extreme. I mean, I love my sister with all my heart and I would do anything for her, but I wouldn't think twice about being her buttmonkey forever and taking the dive for everything she does. I believe devotion can be carried too far, and in the case of Alfred and Alexia it was.

Still, despite the fact that he is a sadist mass-murder who killed and tortured people just for the fun of it, and despite his evident mental problems, I think Alfred is the one member of Alexis's family that might even have a prayer of being changed. 

After the things he's done, he doesn't deserve to live. He doesn't deserve a second chance. And I really can't see him trying to reform just for Alexis's sake.

But I can see that Alexis cares. She hasn't let go of the hope she may one day be able to change him.

And that is why, should we meet, I won't kill him. 

********************************************************************************

**__**

A/N This chapter is a little on the short side, I know. -_- I found myself busier than I'd expected. But the next chapter will see some action and the whole Wesker-Redfield thing will be explained, or else you have permission to chase after me with sticks in an angry mob. *Dodges stick thrown**runs off being chased by irate fan fiction readers upset by the plot twists and the lack of explaining done in this chapter* Hey! Not **yet**_!_


	29. Gah! Attack of the Mutated Elephant Thin...

**Chapter 29**

The path continues through the thick foliage and twists around to lead straight to the fountain where Chris and the others await.

That was quick. For some reason, I thought it would take longer.

The group stands when we arrive, and I scan the area for danger. Lots of water and vegetation, but the closest zombies are a comfortable distance away. I detect no trace of the Ashfords, other than Alexis, and that's a good thing because I am not in the mood to get in a battle with Alexia just now. 

All I want to do is find everyone and get home as quickly as possible. Maybe take a nice hot shower and eat a decent meal.

Chris and Claire are more than a little surprised to see their dad approach with a sad frown.

" Dad! How did you...what did…" Claire starts.

Thomas sighs, an attentive circle gathering around him.

Most of then look tired. 

Carlos's outfit is coated in rips and tears, as if he were running through a briar patch all day long. His hair is likewise disheveled, and in addition to blood it is caked with bits of dried mud and tree bark. He's weary, but alert. He knows better than to let his guard down. I wonder how long the dogs were chasing him before he found the tree?

Steve is sopping wet. He has no visible cuts or scrapes, and his clothes are in much better condition than the rest of us, but he's missing his gun. Despite this, he manages to keep a positive outlook regardless of his obvious discomfort. I must give him credit--he's handling it better than I would. I absolutely detest being wet outside of a shower or swimming environment. Running in soggy clothes is the definition of agony. 

Jill, naturally, is the freshest of the group, and still manages to look as if she'd just stepped out of a beauty parlor. Her reddish hair glints with gold in the mid-morning sunlight, and her face is fresh and unscathed. She's very worried about the situation, and it shows in her demeanor. She must really care for her husband and friends to leave her kids with a friend and come out here for even a short time.

Chris and Claire, of course, both look like they've been to Hell and back.

" Chris, Claire, I have something to tell you." Thomas confesses, his grim tone matching his mood, " Something that I probably should've told you a long time ago." He pauses a moment, as if to build excitement, and looks around.

__

Get on with it! I think, anxious to know how this could've happened.

" Well? " Chris crosses his arms, no more patient with his father than I am.

Thomas shakes his head sadly, his withered gray eyes coming to rest upon his kids. " It all happened a long time ago shortly after your mother and I first met. At the time, she was only fourteen years old and I was sixteen. We…we were both too young to have children, but it happened anyway. We had a daughter, but we couldn't keep her and neither of our families wanted her. You have to understand that those were some tough times back then. Our families were still feeling the effects of the Great Depression, and money was scarce. So your mother's parents decided to put our child up for adoption. A good family…the Mc Clays…adopted her, and even decided to keep the name we'd given her. We used to visit them sometimes just to see how everything was going before they moved away. Years later, when we were older, wiser, and all-around better-off, your mother and I got married and had you kids. Since your sister lived so far away, and since she was getting along rather well, we decided not to intervene and never told you about her. After all, it'd been so long since our last visit anyway…we thought we were doing the right thing." Tears well in Thomas's eyes, and his next words are rough and forced, " Your sister…her name was Clarice. We named Claire after her, in fact. But now…now…" His voice breaks, and he buries his face in his hands and sobs uncontrollably. 

" What?! What happened?! " Chris presses, completely shocked.

Claire is quicker to put it together. " Clarice…Alan, Spade, wasn't that the name of your moth…"

" It's true," Thomas interrupts, tearing his hands away from his eyes and regaining a normal posture, " Clarice is…was…Spade and Alan's mother. That would make them your niece and nephew, I guess. But like Alan said…Clarice is dead. I heard her husband was around here somewhere, I'll have to tell him the news."

" No! " I gush, " That's not a good idea! " 

Thomas cocks an eyebrow at me. " Why not? "

" My dad…you see, he…" I search for a tactful way to put it, " doesn't like Redfields. I mean really, _really _doesn't like Redfields." 

" This is impossible! " Chris declares, his face so priceless I almost laugh, " Wesker's my _brother-in-law?! _"

Steve grins and elbows him good-naturedly. " Small world, 'ey? "

" But…" Chris's eyes are as wide as saucers. He focuses them on me, and I can't stop my smile. 

" Hi Uncle."

He bites his lower lip and just keeps shaking his head in disbelief, staring at me as if I were an alien from another planet rather than his nephew.

Claire's reaction is quite different. " Oh, this is rich! " She laughs, " My brother-in-law tried to kill me, and my nephew has a supervirus! "

" Supervirus? " Thomas echoes, totally stumped.

I shake my head. " Long story."

He shifts his gaze back to Claire. " You've met Clarice's husband before? "

Chris snorts. " Yeah. We knew him pretty well…bad news. Stay as far away from him as you can; he's a murderer. Killed over half of S.T.A.R.S. and tried to kill me and Claire on more than one occasion. Remember that time I had to go to surgery because I had a pipe rammed through my gut? He did that. I gave the nurses a phony story about falling off a house because the truth was too unbelievable. He hates me with a vengeance, all because I ruined his plans. "

Now Thomas is surprised. " He did all _that?! _I heard he was a jerk but that was it. Sounds like he should be turned over to the authorities and given the death sentence."

Carlos nods. " That would work…if you could catch him."

" He has a supervirus," I explain, " one that makes him superhumanly strong and fast. Believe me, you'd have better luck bear-hunting with a stick than trying to take him into custody."

Thomas turns to me. " A supervirus? Like yours? "

I am truthful. " Yep. Just like mine. Only I'm not bent on killing everyone."

Chris nods in my direction. " Alan, give him a demonstration." He turns to his father, " Watch closely."

A demonstration. Ok. My eyes catch the marble angel at the center of the fountain, made to look as if it were pouring water from a vase. The structure is easily life-size, and firmly attached to the bottom of the pool by a sturdy cement column. That will work perfectly.

Like lightning, I zip over and leap onto the supporting ledge. Once I am sure everyone is watching, I rip the angel right off it's stony platform and toss it up into the air like a beach ball. When it falls, I strike out with one arm and smack it over a hundred feet where it collides with a tree and crashes to the ground. All with the ease of a kitten batting a ball of yarn. It's actually kind of fun destroying Umbrella's property.

For my next act, I reach down and pick up a fragment of white marble that shattered off with the removal of the statue. With it in hand, I leap back and land right in front of Thomas. I open my hand and allow him to see it. " Real marble. Go ahead, touch it."

He does. " You're right." He says, awestruck.

I close my hand and squeeze. When I next open it, there is nothing but white powder.

Thomas backs away from me, probably fearing I might do the same to him.

" See? I am very strong. My father has the same powers. We both have a rare virus in our blood."

" Wow." Thomas marvels, reminding me of a small child who just saw a scary movie, " If your dad can do all of that, and he's half as bad as you say he is, I can see why you'd want to stay away from him."

I nod, glad to have cleared that up. Dad's going to be bummed enough when he finds out he married his worst enemy's sister, he'll kill Thomas in a heartbeat.

Thomas shakes his head. " Zombies, superviruses, horrible mutations…what's going on here? This place…this place is impossible. How'd this all happen? "

" In a nutshell? Umbrella, HCF, and a host of other mad-scientist groups we may not even know about yet concocted a couple of really nasty viruses that turn people into zombies. They also used them to make bio-weapons." Chris frowns, " But…there'll be time for the full story later. Right now, I still have a friend missing. Have you seen a young woman around here by the name of Rebecca Chambers? "

Thomas shakes his head. " No."

The thunderous crack of trees and bushes being mowed over by something big makes me jump. Seconds later, and the others hear it too. We all turn our heads in the direction of the noise. I can't see through all the leafy trees and plants, but I don't get a good feeling. The ground trembles beneath my feet.

" Run! " I call, " Whatever it is, it can't be good! "

They don't wait to be told twice. We run in the direction of the mansion.

" Hhhhrrraaaahhh!! " I look back to see a mountain of hideous gray flesh bursting through the trees, literally mowing them over like an oversized bulldozer. 

My first thought is that this creature is too big to be an elephant, and my second is that it's too hideous. But with a long hose of a rotting trunk split into two at the end, four tusks, and a gaping maw filled with row after row of deformed razor-teeth, this creature may once have been an elephant. It's face is a pink and gray mess of flesh with two pure red eyes hanging right out of their sockets. One of it's huge ears is in tatters, the other is almost gone. Once it has fully emerged, I notice huge spikes or protrusions of bone sticking out of it's back covered in a rancid yellow goo. It's hindlegs have mutated into something resembling furless lion's paws, and the tail is nothing but a long extension of bone swathed with little bits of decaying flesh and gelled blood. Ugly beyond all reason. Definitely not the work of the T-virus. G-virus, perhaps?

No wonder Mr. Elephant is not happy. " Hhhraaahhh! " It bellows. Making the point all the more clear. It raises it's double-trunk and spits a purple spray at me. I dodge, and the stuff hits a tree, quickly dissolving the bark and leaves.

Acid! It's spitting some kind of acid!

Ahead, my friends hurry into the mansion with me and the mutant elephant hot on their heels.

" What the…" I barely have time to hear Alfred say as we spill into the main room in a panicked herd.

" Gang way! " Steve calls from up front, pushing past a startled Alfred and Ash who happened to be standing in the way and heading for the front door.

The rest of us hurry by; Alfred and Ash just standing and watching like a pair of dimwits, utterly confused. I think I will laugh my head off when they get trampled to a pulpy pancake.

" Run! " Alexis warns, and seconds later the entire front-end of the mansion explodes inward in an eruption of wood, metal, and dust.

" Hhhhraaahhh! " The wall didn't even slow the creature down.

The others hurry through the closest door, and I deliberately slow my pace, watching to see what the Ashfords will do.

" Gah! " Ash exclaims, horrified.

With reflexes like these, it's a wonder these jerks didn't die years ago. The elephant is almost standing on top of them before they attempt to run. 

Right then, the floor-boards creak and moan under the massive weight before giving way altogether. The giant elephant-thing crashes right through the floor with a piercing trumpet of surprise, taking a screaming Ash and Alfred with it. The whole action is about as quiet as a 747 jumbo-jet flying straight through the room, and I have to cover my ears or risk going deaf. 

_Crash! Smash! Boom! _The elephant falls through more than one floor. If the male Ashfords survived, they're going to be in some serious pain. If the elephant survives, it's going to have a very hard time sneaking up on anyone inside a facility where the typical rooms are nowhere near big enough to accommodate a creature of it's size.

Snickering quietly at the ineptness of Alfred and his lame son, I turn and head for the door everyone else was in such a hurry to get to. To my surprise, it is locked. Right, like a little thing like a locked door is going to stand between a wall-wrecking elephant-monster and it's victims. And how did they find the time to lock the door in the first place? 

Weird sounds emit from the room--like something grinding, and the others scream.

What in the name of all things holy is going on in there? I yank the door open, and am literally ran over by Natasha and Steve. I step aside in the nick of time and narrowly avoid being trampled by everyone else. 

" The walls are closing in! " Claire explains, the last one out, " Thank God you opened the door! We couldn't get it open! " There is a dull thud as the left and right walls inside the room slam together. " That is the last time _you_ pick the room." She pants, eyeing Steve like a jinx.

There is a brief silence as everyone's eyes sweep over the huge pit now decorating the floor, the deep burgundy carpeting hiding the weak spots along the edge where the floor may be ready to cave in.

" Mr. Mutated Elephant was too heavy for his own good." I explain light-heartedly, sensing the impending questions, " Alfred and Ash were a little slow on the draw, and they went through too."

" Wow, that's…" Natasha approaches the lip of the hole to look down against all the good sense God could've given her.

" Don't…" Chris starts, but the advice comes too late as the flimsy wood Natasha is standing on gives way, and she begins to fall into the hole with a scream.

In a flash I am there, grabbing her arm and hoisting her back over the edge. All in less than two seconds. I can only pray the section of floor I'm standing on doesn't also fall in.

" Don't you ever listen? " I hiss softly once she is up and back in the safe-zone.

" Nice save! " Spade cheers, giving me a thumbs-up.

I don't reply. There are sounds coming from below.

" Ugh, let's not tell Mother about this." I hear Ash groan.

" I don't plan on it. Come on." Alfred's painful reply.

So they did survive. But they're hurt. I can hear it in their voices. They must be two floors below us. There is the creak of a door being opened, then their retreating footsteps into another room. 

I hear nothing to indicate the elephant-thing is still alive--then again, perhaps it is merely stunned? Hard to kill a virus-infected creature of that size. Unless it landed at just the right angle on something sharp and pointy.

Then…footsteps! The door to the far right…they're quick and light, like someone or something running.

" Alan, what are you…" 

I am at the door in a blur of speed. The footsteps are getting closer….closer…I tense up, ready to attack if necessary. I have no idea who or what could be coming, only that they're obviously light.

The door flies open and I nearly swipe Rebecca's head off.

Rebecca! I back off and allow her room, embarrassed to have acted so quickly. It was a good thing I caught myself.

She's in much better condition than when I last saw her--her cuts are healing quite nicely, and she seems to have no trouble walking. But she's winded, probably from running a long way, and she kneels forward, resting her hands on her knees. 

" Rebecca! You're alright! " Carlos beams, relieved.

" Yes but…" Rebecca huffs, breathing fast and heavy, " Alexandra's…in trouble! "

Chris's smile at seeing Rebecca okay evaporates. " What do you mean? "

Rebecca straightens, her heart beating rapidly, " Acid Rain…they caught her--shot her up with something that made her sleep--when I tried to help her, they sent those dogs after me."

The hurried clicking of claws against linoleum alerts me to the opened door Rebecca just ran through where a pack of German Shepherds rounds the corner of the black-and-white checkered hall, tongues lolling and teeth bared. Perhaps the weirdest thing about these dogs is that there is nothing weird at all about them. They look completely normal--black and tan fur, the legs, ears, noses, and eyes all where they should be and in the correct number. They're even wearing collars with dog-tags. 

The leader of the pack, Rex, stops about halfway down the hall and a good fifty feet away from me. The rest of the pack--I count five altogether-- freeze behind him. I watch as the dogs study me curiously, not daring to move an inch.

Then, with fearful eyes and a loud '_yipe_', rex turns and runs back the way he came; the rest of the pack following with their tails stuck between their legs.

What was that all about? Perhaps the dogs sensed I was not what I seemed?

It's likely--I recall all the times I had to break into complexes with guard-dogs present; and in almost all of the cases the dogs either ignored me or ran and hid from me. Of course, the few that actually attacked I either killed or injured. But it always made me kinda sad. I generally like dogs, and I hate killing normal dogs of any sort and try to avoid it if I can. After all, they're only doing what they were trained to do.

" Ok, that was weird." Rebecca remarks, noting the fleeing dogs, " I've heard of scaredy-cats, but scaredy-dogs? " She shakes her head, then turns to meet Chris's gaze dead-on. " We have to save Alexandra."

Chris furrows his brows, and I can tell he doesn't really want to do it. " But Rebecca, we're finally altogether now. We're running low on ammunition and stamina, and we've already over-stayed our welcome. And don't forget--Wesker and Alexia are still running around out there. We need to go now. I'm sure Alexandra's parents will look after her. I'm sure she's probably…"

" " Gonna die! " Alexis finishes, running to Rebecca, " Do you know where they're at? " She asks, face pale with worry.

Rebecca nods mechanically. " Yes, down that hallway…I could show you! "

Chris shakes his head in disapproval. " I'm afraid there's no time." He doesn't want to get involved. He doesn't want to mess with the Ashfords. Now that everyone's in one place, for once, all Chris wants to do is get out of this bloody city. He probably figures the Ashfords can take care of themselves. I can see where he's coming from--he doesn't mean to sound cruel, but people have already died and he doesn't want to risk anyone else. He's just doing what a good leader should do and making the tough decisions. 

" Jill, is the chopper ready? " He turns to his wife, mentally perceiving the discussion over.

Jill nods grimly. " Yes. I made sure it was big enough for everyone in case something like this happened." She starts out around the gaping hole in the middle of the room. " It's this way."

Thomas, Carlos, Natasha, Spade, and Claire follow; some more reluctantly than others.

" I can see why it wouldn't matter to you, but I'm going to help my sister! " Alexis declares, shooting Chris an _I've-made-up-my-mind-so-don't-even-try-and-stop-me _look.

" I'll go with her." I say before Chris can object.

" Yeah, and we know where an extra jet is." Alexis adds.

Chris softens. " Alright. Here." He reaches into his pocket and tosses me a small dart-pistol. " In case you run into Alexia. The dart with the cure is loaded and ready. Watch yourselves."

I nod, shoving the pistol into my pocket. " Thanks."

" I'm going too! " Rebecca pipes, " I can…"

" No." Chris counters firmly, " Alan and Alexis can do the job just fine. You're still hurt."

He does have a point. I don't really want Rebecca with us either--she's sweet and cheerful and everything, but not much of an asset in a fight. That, plus the fact that she's wounded…my mind floods with the images of me having to save her from my dad, Alexia, and any other nasty we may happen to encounter. Really, I think, what good could she do? On the bright side, at least my blood didn't mutate her or anything. That's good to know.

" Alright." Rebecca gives in with a defeated sigh, " Go down the hall and keep going straight until you get to the staircase. Take the first door on the left, and you'll be in a blue kitchen…"

" A _blue_ kitchen? " Alexis echoes.

" That's right. Anyway, you'll see an open hatch near the stove with a metal ladder going down, go down and you'll end up in a rec-room with a big swimming pool. The door to your left will lead into the room Acid Rain first surprised Alexandra and I in. I can't promise they stayed there, though."

" Wait a minute," I say, " If those dogs were chasing you the whole way, how did they manage to follow you up the ladder? Or through closed doors either, for that matter? "

Rebecca pauses, perplexed. " I don't know. I never thought about it before, but now that you mention it, yeah, that _is_ weird."

" The wonder-animals of Umbrella," Chris drawls, " they're just full of surprises."

" Actually, I think those dogs were more Acid Rain type," I gently correct, " I've been down in their labs and they specialize in non-mutated super-smart animals."

Alexis suddenly takes off down the hall at full speed. " Alan, come on! "

" Gotta go! " I say my goodbyes to Chris and Rebecca before darting off after her. 

But I do catch what Chris's words as I leave: " Come on, 'Becca. Let's get out of here before we have another encounter with my _brother-in-law_." He hisses the words _brother-in-law _like curse-words. Who could blame him? I'd sure hate to have an evil brother-in-law, but now that my mother is dead, I wonder if they'd still even be in-laws. Hmm. I'll have to look into that some time when I'm not rushing to the rescue.

Now it's just me and Alexis. I really hope little Alexandra is alright.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~************************************************ ~~~~~~~~~~~

**__**

It's countdown time: Only a few chapters left to go….. 


	30. Different

****

Chapter 30

Turns out Alexis is a fast runner. We reach the staircase in record time and take the first door to the left, just as instructed. Actually, it's the _only_ door to the left, and it's wide open--revealing the strange blue kitchen Rebecca mentioned.

" Wow." Alexis pauses in the middle of the floor, taking time to observe the various shades of blue decorating the walls, appliances, counters, cabinets, floor…even the utensils hanging neatly from the little hooks in the wall are done in contrasting blues, giving the whole kitchen a very depressing feel.

I have to wonder--what is it with Umbrella and the one-color rooms? Or was it the other mansion with the room all done in red…must be a trendy theme among evil virus companies. It probably has something to do with the atmosphere the painter was trying to create. Wheras the red room had a very angry, fiery feeling to it, this room gives off sad, depressing vibes--a state of total hopelessness. 

Near the stove I spot the open hatch with a ladder leading down into the lower levels. The heavy scent of chlorine waftes up mixed with the smell of the wonder-German Shepherds who can apparently climb up and/or down ladders.Yep. That's where our pool is.

" This way." I lead the way down the metal rungs, happy to escape the morbid room. Down the stairs, all is dark with the exception of the light from above and the very soft glow seeping from the murky depths of the giant pool to the right.

The opposing door is a good fifty feet straight ahead--we will have to pass one end of the pool to reach it. Oddly enough, it is closed. Wherever those dogs were headed they don't want us following. 

And they know how to close doors. 

I'm not exactly sure which of these facts creeps me out the most.

A faint, ever so soft stirring of water draws my attention back to the pool. Where mortal eyes would see only darkness, I catch a small, almost unnoticeable ripple on the surface of the otherwise still water. Something's in here with us. Odds are ten to one it's not friendly. I have a bad feeling.

" Alan? Where are you? " Alexis whispers softly, finally reaching the bottom rung and stepping off the ladder, " I can't see."

" Shh. There's something in here with us." I strain to see into the depths of the pool. Unfortunately, not even I can see through water that looks more like green sludge in an almost pitch-black environment.

Beyond the pool--to the opposite end of the room lyes a stand of bleachers with a door nearby, presumably leading to the sauna. The room is otherwise empty.

Alexis taps my shoulder awkwardly. " What's in here? " Her voice is hushed and worried.

I'm right there with her. I don't know what's swimming around in that water. Whatever it is, it obviously didn't attack Rebecca…coincidence? Maybe. Maybe the thing was just asleep when Rebecca ran by. 

Or maybe I'm just freaking out over a little fish that can't even leave the water. That would sure be embarrassing! Alan Wesker afraid of a little fish. 

However, we _are_ talking about Umbrella here. My instincts are telling me to be careful.

Fortunately, there is a good ten feet of space between the edge of the pool we must pass and the wall. This gives me an idea.

" Listen Alexis, I need you to stay to the left against the wall. Grab on to my shirt--I'll lead us to the door."

" Alright." Alexis does as instructed and I press against the left wall, slowly inching towards the door with the stealth of any cat.

Alexis is scared. " What do you see? "

" Nothing. That's what has me worried. I think something's in the water, but it's too dark and murky to make out." I keep my voice in a quiet whisper, not wishing to draw attention.

The room goes silent with a deadly still. My heart pumps overtime. For the first time in years I am truly, utterly terrified. And the weird thing is I don't know why. It's not like me to be afraid of the dark.

I move along a little faster, hugging the wall tightly and staying as far away from the ungodly pool as possible.

Suddenly, a gigantic wedge-shaped mass easily the size of a truck erupts from the water in a spray of supernatural speed.

" Run! " The only thing I have time to say before the two slitted red eyes bear down on me--a gaping cavern of teeth taking me in in a quick bite.

It's got me! Whatever it is, I'm in it's mouth!

It was so fast…fiery needles of pain prick my flesh and something hot and slimy smacks against my face.

I can no longer see. 

A hot blast of rancid air blasts up from the bowels of it's throat as it attempts to swallow me whole.

Luckily, I have not been hurt much at all. 

Not-so-luckily, everything I touch is as slick as snot on a doorknob with the thing's saliva. This is a major disadvantage because my super-strength isn't going to be worth a hill of beans if I can't get a firm hold on anything.

Instinct tells me the slimy thing is the creature's tongue, and I grab ahold of it just in time.

There is a violent sensation of movement as the monster tosses it's head up and down; trying and failing to swallow. 

But I can't keep this up forever. The tongue is slick and my grip is fading fast. I really am going to be in serious trouble if I don't think of something fast.

It is a shame none of Dad's training covered what to do in a slippery situation. 

If we Weskers have a weakness, it is slippery surfaces. Hard to do much of anything when you can't even stand up right. T-2 virus grants us awesome powers, but not the whole package. We don't have the cool grip-thing going on for us like Spiderman does, nor can we fly like Superman.

We can jump high, true, but jumping requires a solid, steady surface, and that I don't have right now.

I consider my options.

Too slippery for me to lash out and injure the thing's mouth in hopes of it spitting me out without being swallowed in the process. I'm only barely avoiding being pulled in as it is. 

I have no weapons…lessee….what _do_ I have? A radio. _Yeah, _I think sarcastically, _maybe Chris or someone could come on and talk it out of eating me. _

Scratch that. What else do I have? Nothing. Nothing that could help me out of this mess, anyway. Oh boy, this is not looking good.

I can't help but to think that , in a situation like this, I'm pretty much screwed.

Moist walls of living tissue and flesh crush in on me, threatening to smother me in their foul stench. The monster opens it's mouth a few times, allowing me to catch brief glimpses of the outside wall between jagged teeth.

Did Alexis make it out okay? Probably--unless this thing has more than one head, it can't be eating us both at once. At least that's a small comfort.

Strangely enough, I find my thoughts drifting to my mother. I have a feeling I will be meeting her soon.

The beast flies into a wild frenzy like a cat with a bone caught in it's mouth: snapping it jaws open and close whilst thrusting it's head about violently in frustration. Though I am now away from the bone-rending teeth, I am being drawn uncomfortably closer and closer to the black abyss of the throat.

I realize with horror that if this creature does succeed in devouring me, it will mutate into something even more hideous, even _more_ powerful off my blood. What a cheery thought.

I feel myself slipping--the tighter I try to hold on, the more I slide until, at last, I lose my grip altogether and plunge downwards.

Warm wetness engulfs me, constricts me on all sides as I slide down rapidly; no chance to catch my breath. Then a burning sensation, and a widening in the space around me.

The stomach acid. I'm going to be digested alive!

No! I won't let this happen! I am _not_ going to be chow for some idiot monster!

By now I am completely submerged in the stinging, watery acid, doing all I can to hold my breath and keep my eyes clenched shut.

I reach out and…yes! A flicker of hope! My hand brushes something hard and slick, then another, and another…a ribcage. I am feeling the ribcage of a previous victim.

Eu. Fighting back waves of nausea, I force my fingers to twine around one of the bones. It's so beyond gross, but it's my only chance of survival. I run my fingeres the length of the bone until I find the sharp edge, and swim over to the side of what can only be one of the stomach walls.

Mr. Monster is about to sincerely regret eating me, oh yes.

I drive the bone into the soft flesh, putting all the force I can into the blow. The creature bellows, but the exact sound is muffled through the fluids.

_Oh, so you didn't like that, huh? Then how about…this! _I retract the bone only to stab it in again and again in rapid-fire succession: each hit more powerful, more devastating than the last.

A refreshing burst of cool fluids gushes in in front of me, and I know I have pierced a hole through the thing's body. Going strictly by touch and instinct, I feel around and locate the small hole. Grabbing each side of torn tissue separately, I rip the hole bigger and push out into cool water.

Shooting up quickly, I break the surface and gulp mouthfuls of precious air, at the same time daring to open my eyes. I almost wish I hadn't.

Much to my horror, I am almost in the center of the pool. In the center of the pool with a giant monster in it. Not a fun place to be. Not a safe place to be.

To my surprise, the luminescent lights overhead have been switched on, bathing the room in a dim yellow glow.

" Alan! " Alexis stands next to the door we were originally aiming for, and it's a safe bet that she was the one responsible for the lights, " Watch out! It's a giant snake! "

Snake?

A long scaly black whip of a reptilian tail jets out of the water inches away and splashes wildly.

That's my cue to leave. Though I've never tried it, I'm thinking I wouldn't be very good at wrestling giant snakes in the water. Quickly as possible, I swim for the closest edge and note with delight it happens to be near the bleachers. Being a fast swimmer, I reach it in no time and hoist myself out of the water. 

" Sssssaaaassshhhh! " The behemoth snake is a black whip of fury, striking at me in a blind rage. Only this time I am prepared and the monster's hideous mouth closes on air.

So it wants to play rough, does it? I search around for something to use as a weapon. I really shouldn't. 

Logic dictates that Alexis and I should just run; escape while the creature is distracted by it's belly-wound. But logic and I are not on good terms right now. I want that thing dead. I want to kill the beast that almost killed me.

The mighty serpent throws back it's head with a wild hiss--preparing for another strike--just as bent on killing me as I am on killing it.

I dive aside and the snake slams it's head into the bleachers, hissing in rage.

Wait a minute…bleachers! Why didn't I think of it before? Before the snake can fully recover, I grab a bar of bleacher-seat and yank it right off it's support beams. Tossing that aside, I grab a sturdy metal rod and tear it from it's welds with ease. Now I am holding a five foot long steel support beam a good three inches thick and with a perfectly wicked tip.

My very own custom-made javelin. All in a timeframe of about ten seconds.

The jumbo snake is just starting to lift it's head when I thrust the rod through the putrid scaly flesh of it's cranium, penetrating the brain.

" Srrraaaaaa!! " The snake sags to the floor, my 'spear' three quarters of the way sunk into it's head. A reddish-orange pus spurts from the wound and trickles over the ridges of the creature's fierce red eye which dims to a dull brown as the fire of life leaves it's body. It's jaw twitches one last, desperate time, before closing forever.

Serves it right. I really hate snakes. Even when they're not 100 foot long virus-enhanced monsters.

Just to be sure, I give the rod a sound kick further into the beast's brain and watch with satisfaction as the force of the blow causes the creature to slide back into the pool; the rest of it's mass teaming up with gravity to pull it top a watery grave.

From the other end of the room, Alexis heaves a sigh of relief. " For a moment there I was getting pretty worried."

I grab my sopping shirt and twist some of the water out, grimacing in disgust at the foulsome smell of snake innards that now perfumes me. " Are you kidding? It takes more than a lame-o giant snake to take a Wesker down. He never stood a chance. Are you alright? "

" Yes. It was too busy with you to be bothered by me."

I leap diagonally over the corner of the pool--a distance of about thirty feet--and land next to her, hoping my less-than-desirable smell doesn't scare her away screaming down the halls.

A shower sounds pretty inviting right about now.

Alexis shakes her head with a warm smile, clearly happy to see me unharmed. " You nearly got eaten."

" Actually…yeah." I say, deciding against grossing her out with all the really gross details right now. What can I say? Getting eaten by a giant snake is definitely on my list of things never to do again. Just thinking about it makes me sick. " Let's find your sister and get out of this madhouse."

" I'm for that." Alexis opens the door to the next room and I find it interesting that she still manages for the most part to look clean and generally unscathed while I and almost everyone else look as if we've been playing hide-and-seek in a landfill complete with cesspool-dipping and a pack of zombie-dogs . Her hair is matted with a few thorns, her clothes have a few rips here and there, and sure--she has a few bruises and scrapes, but for the most part she looks got to go.

I, on the other hand, am a wet and miserable disaster despite my super-fast healing powers. As if that were not bad enough I am soaked to the bone in mutated-snake bodily fluids. 

Must be a guy thing. Out of the whole gang, I think Carlos, Chris, and I probably look the worst. Rebecca may have suffered the most, but she doesn't _look_ as bad as we do. And Jill looks really, really good.

Not for the first time I find myself wondering what--if any--effect my blood had on her.

The next room we enter is a big lunchroom containing two long wooden lunch benches begging for a cleaning and walls boasting calendars, memos, pinups, and other things commonly seen in both the office and an obsessed pervert's den.

" This is the room which Rebecca placed the abduction. I'm thinking Acid rain bailed." Alexis makes a disgusted face at the 'Miss July 2003' poster.

" I'm thinking we follow them." I throw open the next door and am surprised to see a group of a dozen or more men and women in white labcoats with complimentary beige and black pants standing around a circular table studying various papers and books. I recognize the chocolate-haired Mark Cyrus near the center of the group--young Alexandra standing calmly by his side.

The entire group looks up as we enter.

" Alexandra! " Alexis exclaims cheerfully, relieved to see her sister safe and sound.

" Alexis! " Alexandra runs towards her sister, and not one of Acid rain makes a move to stop her.

Perhaps they are smart after all.

" Pleasure seeing you here, Alan. Alexis." Mark grumbles without emotion. Just behind him and to the back of the room, the pack of German Shepherds whimper and back against the wall--ears flattened and tails stuck between their legs.

" What were you goons done to my sister? " Alexis demands angrily, slipping into protective-sister mode before I have a chance to add my own two-cent's worth, " If you did something to her I swear you are going to…"

" Easy there angry bear! " Mark chides, holding his hands out in a sign of surrender, " We were not going to harm young Alexandra. Why does everyone think that? "

" Probably because you're all a bunch of untrustworthy weasels." I snort, " You sent those dogs after Rebecca."

I am already considering my options should a fight break out. The scientists are armed with guns sheathed in their bulging pockets. Though I am tired and drained, I am still very strong and fast---I could probably take over half of them out before a single shot is fired, I think.

Yet I don't want to kill anyone. The day has seen enough death. Best-case scenario, they will allow us to take Alexandra and leave.

The men and women of Acid Rain--all of whom are wearing special name-tags bearing the Acid Rain logo--remain silent, watching Alexis and I with growing interest.

Mark steps forward, clearly in charge. " I sent the dogs, true. But it was for her own good--these levels are not a safe place to be. Besides," he gestures to the dogs with an innocent smile, " They wouldn'tve hurt her even if they'd caught her. They just wanted to chase her away like I'd ordered. All bark and no bite. That's my dogs." 

" I see." I feel bad for the dogs getting mixed up in a mess like this.

Mark nods seriously. " They're actually very sweet. Look, there's a reason we let you catch up with us…"

" Because this room only has one way in and you had no place to run? " Alexis observes coolly.

She's right. This is a rather small room. Other than the central table, it sports only one sink and counter with drawers and cabinets for research and disinfectants, judging by the smells.

" Good guess. But you're only partially right." Mark signals the rest of his team with a hand gesture, and they all go back to work reading and rifling through papers.

For some reason, this bothers me more than if they were to point their guns at me.

" Ok. Fine. You know what? I don't care what you and you're team of schizo-scientists do." Alexis declares resolutely, resting a hand on Alexandra's shoulder, " My sister and I are leaving and you can all just rot down here." She turns and starts out the door, motioning Alexandra and I to follow. " Come on."

" Wait! " Mark pleads, " Ever heard the expression '_the enemy of my enemy is my friend_'? We're not your enemies. Believe it or not, we want out of here just as much as you do."

" That's right." A lanky man with short red hair and wire-rimmed glasses agrees, taking a moment to look up from his work, " The Ashfords are your true enemy."

Alexis twirls around. " Um…I don't know if you've noticed this before, but Alexandra and I _are _Ashfords, ergo not worried about being attacked by our own family."

" Perhaps you should be." Mark says, casting the speaking red-haired man a disapproving glare that turns him back on his work, " Like I've said before, we are not the bad guys."

" Oh, so you kidnapped Alexandra out of the goodness of your hearts? " I shoot, not really sure why I'm not just leaving. Acid Rain has made it clear they don't intend to attack us. Alexis has the right idea.

Alexandra's next words come as a surprise. " They didn't kidnap me. I came with them willingly. Please don't be angry--they were just trying to help."

Mark grins and nods in Alexandra's direction. " See? Couldn't have said it better myself. We didn't want to _harm_ Alexandra, we were trying to _save_ her. Since Alexandra was born with the T-Veronica virus, it is embedded deep within her genes; a symbiotic mutation to her DNA code. If she were to lose it, she would die. According to our research and knowledge of this virus and the way it behaves, having it programmed into her DNA is advantageous. It will take a few more years yet for her virus to fully 'awaken', but when it does she will be not only smarter than her mother, but more powerful as well. It's only a matter of time before Alexia discovers this little tidbit, and when she does, how do you think she will react? "

" But Alexandra is her own daughter! " I gush, more to convince myself, " She wouldn't…."

" She couldn't…" Alexis continues. But she does not sound so sure herself.

The awful truth of it is, I _do_ believe Alexia would stoop as low as to kill her own daughter to prevent her from becoming more powerful than her. And since Alexandra has shown a tendency toward the light side of the force…Mark is absolutely right. Alexia is not going to like that. Once she finds out, she'll probably kill Alexandra while she's still young and defenseless against her. Before she has a chance to ever develop her powers.

Alexis must realize this too. She looks haunted as she caresses a hand gently through her sister's baby-soft blonde hair, taking extra care not to dislodge the little red ribbon. She really loves her sister. I can see why this would be upsetting.

Alexandra herself has a forlorn expression years ahead of her age: whatever Mark told her, she has already accepted the truth. And she isn't happy about it. Gently, she reaches up with one hand and grasps her sister's arm without taking her eyes off Mark. 

" Mark is right. I'm sorry, Sis. I wish it were different…but Mom doesn't love us. How could she? She can't even love herself. It's better this way." Her voice comes out in a defeated sigh as she makes the rough decision no child should ever have to make, " I've agreed to stay with them."

" You don't have to." Alexis turns Alexandra around to face her, and I notice a tear in Alexandra's eye, " You could stay with me. I have a nice home and no kids to enjoy it. I would take you in in a heartbeat. What do you say? Two sisters living the crazy life? "

Alexandra looks to the floor, as if ashamed of something. " I'd like to but…I can't."

" Why not? " Alexis's words are soft, gentle. She cups a hand under her sister's chin and tilts her head up.

" Because I'm different." Alexandra sobs, tears streaming down her face. To prove her point, she holds up her wrists and display the flint bracelets; the ones she uses to spark for fire.

Alexis's next words touch my soul, and now I know part of the reason I fell for her.

" Alexandra," She says simply, voice choked with emotion, " We're all different." 


	31. Common Enemies

****

Chapter 31

" That's right," I agree, " I'm not exactly the poster-boy for normal myself. But just because you're different doesn't mean you deserve less than everyone else. Besides, Acid Rain would probably experiment on you anyway." 

" We would not! " Mark scoffs, " We do not experiment on people! One of the many aspects which separate us from Umbrella."

" Really? " Alexis chimes, " Because in some papers I found R.A.I.N. says…"

Mark flicks a hand and cuts her off. " R.A.I.N.! Phooey. You can't believe anything that wanker Tem says. He's just upset because we left."

" Speaking of leaving…" I turn for the door. " Come on girls. I think we've overstayed our welcome."

" Wait! " Mark's voice is desperate, " There's something in the pool out there! We saw the water moving when…"

I almost laugh. So this is why they want us! They're afraid of the big bad watersnake.

" There _was_ something in the water. Giant snake. I killed it."

" Oh." Mark is surprised, " Well, in that case…go right on ahead. But if I were you I _would _watch my back for Alexia. She doesn't care about her family and she can't stand Weskers." 

" Really? Gee, and here I thought all those times she tried to kill me were just misunderstandings because I happened to catch her on a bad day."

" No need to get sarcastic," Mark snorts, " I meant what I said. I wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw her. That goes for you too, Alexis. I don't get the feeling she's making with the warm fluffies towards you either. You really think she wouldn't kill you just because you're her daughter? Ah, the naiveity of an Ashford's mind. "

Naiveity? Is that even a word? 

We double back into the lunchroom and through the pool area, leaving Mark and his team to their own devices.

" Well, what do you think of them? " Alexis asks out of the blue.

" Acid Rain? One word: lame. Supergeniuses who left all their weapons 'at the other base'? Not winning any points in my book." I shake my head. At first I'd thought Mark to be a real jerk, but now I can see he has at least some wit about him. Too many scientists given the chance to study Alexandra and her rare virus would've pounced on the opportunity, probably regardless of me. Acid rain knows I'm dangerous. That's good. Perhaps it will dissuade them from messing with me in the future.

Up the ladder. Out into the disturbingly blue kitchen. All without so much as a zombie standing in our way. 

Kinda disappointing, actually. I'm really in the mood to thump something undead, and I can literally whale the stuffing out of any zombie.

Perhaps I thought too soon. 

We enter the hall adjoining the kitchen and come across quite the interesting sight. A slightly scuffed-up Alfred and Ash just happen to be in the very same hall. What a coincidence!

Their eyes widen like a fish when they see us.

" Oh shit it's Alan! " Ash gasps, totally freaked.

" Bloody Hell! " Alfred agrees.

They turn and run.

I really shouldn't chase them, I know. I should just get out of here while the getting's good and be thankful if nothing else happens. But I just wouldn't be myself if I always did the reasonable thing. I really want to hurt these guys. Nothing too serious…just strike some fear into their hearts. Let them know I don't play nice.

Surely that can't do any harm, can it?

I zoom off after them.

" Alan! Wait! " Alexis tries.

One door and seconds later, and I wish I had.

Alfred and Ash are terribly unlucky. All the doors in the frigg'en base and they pick the one with two supertyrants standing behind it. I could hit myself.

Stupid! So stupid! Why do I almost always go against my better judgment? 

The room itself is little more than a large metallic circle going up through several stories and a series of large pipes standing vertically in the center. There is a little ladder hanging down from one of these levels and connecting this floor with the next. Up higher is more of the same--different floors all encompassed with a circle of dull gray metal railing. So drab and uniform.

It reminds me a little of the big underground cavern in the HCF base.

The hulking supertyrants grin; revealing rows of the infamous shark's teeth. This time both of them have very visible chunks of decayed flesh in their chompers that reek of T-virus.

Yuck.

Why do I always look in their mouths? I'm beginning to wonder if I need to see a psychiatrist.

Their red eyes blaze, their thick black horns gleam in the luminescent glow, and their tough green hide looks just as bullet-proof as ever.

Damn. I'd forgotten there were still two of them left.

" Ah, supper has come our way! " The one to the left remarks, licking his chops.

Alfred and Ash, seeing me blocking their only escape, back into the curve of the wall.

" Remember what Alexia said about us! " Alfred manages, trying to appear cool and in control.

He doesn't fool me. I have a knack for telling when people are frightened, and right now fear is rolling off both him and Ash in big, stinky waves.

" Don't fret…it's the Wesker we want." I notice the speaking supertyrant has a chip in his right horn. Probably from trying to win a head-butting contest with a tank.

The other supertyrant flares his nostrils, making a face. " You sure about that? From the smell of him seems something else already beat us to it."

" Hey! You eat zombies! Where do you get off saying _I'm_ the smelly one, zombie-breath? " It's actually rather insulting when a zombie-eating monster decides you're too smelly to eat. I can't possibly smell that bad. 

I am totally unprepared when Alexis and Alexandra barge past me with all the politeness of a runaway semi.

In a tense second, they freeze in front of me, noting the situation, then decide maybe it would be better if they joined Alfred and Ash huddled against the wall.

What's…

A second later, and I have my answer. The poisonous coppery smell of the T-2 virus is all but overwhelming, and my father appears by my side.

Solves that mystery. No wonder they were in such a hurry to catch up with me.

Chip Horn supertyrant is confused. " There are _two_ Weskers? "

His brother rolls his eyes. " No you dip. They're father and son. Even a moronic failure like you must be able to see the difference."

Chip Horn is a slow learner. " Oh yeeahhh…" He says after about fifteen seconds, " Which one did Mistress Alexia want again? Hey waitaminute, isn't that Alexia? " He points a wicked talon against Alexis, standing next to her father and doing a much better job of displaying courage than him.

Supertyrant Number Two wasn't kidding: Chip Horn is a moronic failure.

" No you blockhead! That's Alexia's fuzzy little daughter. And it doesn't matter _which_ Wesker we get." 

I could almost laugh. Almost.

Dad turns to me with a confident, cool expression. " I don't know about you, but I'm getting tired of running from the overgrown apes."

He wants me to help him fight them. And the crazy thing is…I want to. I've had it up the yin-yang with these stupid tyrant-things…I want to murder them!

Two against two…with Dad's help, we stand a chance.

I answer Dad with a nod and surge forward in a rush of speed at the same time he does. Somewhere along the way, I hear a metallic _'ka-ching! _and Dad leaps for Chip Horn.

Oh great. Guess I'm stuck with the smarter of the outfit.

My supertyrant strikes out with his fist, and I dive down.

Hah! Too slow! 

Too slow by about five millimeters. Another second and I would've been down for the count. Colliding face-first at 100mph with a moving block-of-concrete fist would easily be enough to kill me.

Have to come to grip with the facts--Supertyrant is stronger than me and much better armored. My only hope is to use the only weapon he doesn't have: blinding speed. For this reason I continue my dive under his legs and spring up behind him before he has time to fully grasp what's happening.

To my delight, his missed swing threw him off balance, and a swift kick to his back sends him crashing to the floor. Now all I need is something nice and sharp for those delicate eyes.

Unfortunately, nothing that fits that description can be found in this room. Pipes, railing, more pipes…not an iota of liquid nitrogen either.

What were we thinking?

" Dad we…" I stop midsentence, the words freezing in my mouth.

Chip Horn lies dead on the floor--twin rivers of blood flowing from his ruptured eyes and forming a pool around his limp form.

Dad stands over the body triumphantly like a deer hunter posing for a photograph with a prize trophy. Two very long, very sharp spike-like silvery blades no more than an inch in circumference at the base sprout from the middle of each one of his custom black gloves, dripping with gore.

Ok. Where did he get those and how do I get a pair?

Dad grins. " Need a little help there Son? "

With a wild howl of primal fury, my supertyrant spring to his feet in a speed I would never guess such a tank-like creature to have.

" Yes. Help would be nice." I zip aside just before Mr. Angry Supertyrant can exact vengeance on my face.

" Coward! Face me! " He is not in a good mood. Probably has something to do with the fact that his brothers are all dead and now he is left to face my father and I alone.

Dad gives me a curt nod, one that I have seen many times before on our missions: it means 'keep him busy'.

While Supertyrant is busy glaring daggers at my father, I zip in and use both hands to grab one of his scaly green arms. It is surprisingly cold to the touch, like a serpent's hide.

" Mrrraaaaw! " He turns his ugly mug to gnash his teeth at me, making the fatal mistake of ignoring my as-of-now much more dangerous father.

In one fluid motion, the dreaded spike-blade plunges deep into his eye, rupturing tissue and membranes in a volcanic spray of red. It was so fast even I didn't see it coming.

Releasing his arm, I hop backwards and give Dad the room he needs to stab the other eye.

The behemoth monster freezes up, then falls over backward, leaving Dad with even bloodier blades.

I wrinkle my nose. That was not a pretty picture. " Looks like we…" I barely have time to get those three simple words out before Dad turns on the Ashfords in a whiplash speed.

In a flash he grabs Alexandra. In a flash he is standing next to Chip Horn's carcass. There is another _'ka-ching' _and three more blades pop out to join the original on his right glove. These he positions under Alexandra's chin…the razor-sharp tips a centimeter away from piercing her throat.

" Alexandra! " Alexis and Alfred cry in unison.

" She's worth more to me alive, but I assure you: one wrong move and she dies. Not even Alan will be able to reach me quickly enough."

He's right. Both of us have a very quick reaction time. By the time I got there he'd have those wicked blade rammed halfway through her throat. T-Veronica virus or no, the odds are highly against her surviving that.

There are times I really hate my father. Now being one of them. How could he kill an innocent child? I still don't see how anyone could stoop so low, especially someone who had children himself.

I know he is not bluffing. He will want to take Alexandra without incident, and if any of us even acts like we're going to try anything he will do as he says. Period. My father's mind processes on a cold-blooded level.

Alexandra wisely remains perfectly still. The moment is pregnant with silence.

I give Alexis what must be an embarrassingly helpless look. Surely she will see that there is nothing I can do. Damn.

I hate this! I hate feeling so helpless…so useless! I played almost no significant role in killing the supertyrants except maybe to distract them from Dad, and now I can't even save my best friend's sister!

" Ok you win. We won't move. Just please…don't hurt her." Alexis surrenders, words choked with sadness and worry.

Alfred and Ash exchange blank stares but do not move from their positions.

" I'm taking her dead or alive," Dad states flatly, " and if anyone tries to stop me, I guess it'll be dead."

" You poisonous snake! " I growl, feeling my eyes heat up and glow. We lock eyes, and Dad's flash red as well.

" Poisonous snake? Why Alan, you've offended me." Dad laughs, obviously not offended and even more obviously trying to get my goat.

" Well I'm not in the best of moods," I admit, " my mother just died."

Dad arches his eyebrows in surprise.

So he _does_ care. I thought he might.

" Really? That's terribly sad." He starts towards the door, clutching Alexandra close and disguising his emotions under a mask of indifference. I can tell he is upset, but Dad views showing emotions other than anger as a sign of weakness. In fact, Dad views a lot of things as signs of weakness.

I'm thinking now is probably not a good time to reveal I'm Chris's nephew, either. I don't think he will take that lightly. It might stall time for Alexandra, but it is a chance I'm not willing to take. At least if she's taken to HCF alive I have a chance of going there and rescuing her. 

Suddenly, " Stop right there Wesker. " 

All eyes drift up to the next floor where Alexia stands by the railing, holding Spade by the throat and looking dangerously serious. " You kill my daughter, I kill yours."

Spade! My god, this is turning out to be a real nightmare!

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	32. Bloodshed

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A/N: Sorry about the **RIDICULOUSLY**_ long wait for the update, I had trouble with this chapter. I must've rewrote it about a dozen times in a dozen different scenarios before I came up with one I really liked. Anyway, I hope I can make up for it with the longest chapter I've ever written, and I doubt you'll have as long a wait for the last chapter, since I already know what I want to do with it. ;-)_

Welcome on board **Katiana**_, _**CyootKitty**_, _**Sherry15**_, _**Kisu-Ayla**_, and _**Demon Eyes Kyo**_! Wow, looks like this story is getting very popular! ^^ :D _

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Moczo: Is naiveity a word? It isn't in the dictionary, so I'm thinking no. Naivety, however, is a word, and actually is the one Mark should've used…. Next chapter is here, don't fade out on me yet!

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Sych77: Thanks for all of your support and baked goods. I borrowed a phrase of yours this chapter, see if you can find it! =D

And as usual, thanks to the usual gang of constant readers and those of you I've failed to mention. 

I updated my bio recently, in case anyone's interested. LOL I must have one of the longest bios on FF.Net! Oh well…. ^_~

Oh, by the way, your last **'R'**_ rated chapter. You'll see why close to the end. 0_0_

Anyways, without **further** delay, here is

Chapter 32

" But… I thought you didn't care about your children." Dad marvels.

Alexia's smile broadens. " Actually, that's a misconception." She tightens her grip around my sister's throat, " The question is, do _you_ care about _your _children? " Oddly enough, her flames are all out and a new black evening gown replaces the red dress. 

How does she do it? 

I remember the T-Veronica cure in my pocket and slowly reach for it. If I'm quick enough, I may be able to shoot her and get to Spade before any bloodshed can occur. A slight chance, but it is there. 

And we're all out of other chances at the moment. I do not for a second believe that if Dad complies and lets Alexandra go the Queen of Lies will keep her end of the bargain. She just doesn't strike me as the type.

Spade's fearful green eyes fix our father's. " Daddy." She coughs.

Dad is pained. In a gesture almost invisible to the mortal eye, he slightly loosens his grip on Alexandra. Slightly.

Oh boy. So he doesn't trust Alexia either. And who could blame him? 

I clutch the cure dart-gun tightly, but refrain from drawing it into view just yet, considering the outcome. 

It would take Alexia all of one second to fatally wound Spade. I am fast, but not 'faster than a speeding bullet' as the old Superman phrase goes. I would literally have to be the Flash to make that one. Nuh-uh. Not happening. 

And what of Alexandra? There has to be a way to save both of them…

" How do I know you'll really hold up your end of the deal if I release your daughter? " Dad demands, interrupting my thoughts.

Alexia's expression is cold and wicked. " You don't. Then again, if you _don't _release Alexandra, I'll make sure your darling daughter dies."

I think of threatening Alexia with the cure, decide against it. My best chance of making the cure work is if she doesn't know I have it.

The air is still--not even the other Ashfords stir--and it is really a deadly standoff.

Problem is, I know Dad loves Spade, but I don't really believe that Alexia loves Alexandra. Maybe she feels an affection for her, but who knows? I could be wrong. She could just be psyching us.

Alexia notices me sizing her up. " Aw, what's wrong boy? You love your sister? " She is taunting me, trying to push my buttons.

I don't answer. I need to think.

All I know for a fact right now is that, if she does kill Spade, I will find a way to shoot her up with the cure if I have to kill myself doing it. Then she will most certainly be no match for my father.

However, I don't like kamikaze plans.

For a brief instant, I notice Alfred and Alexia lock eyes, and Alfred seems deeply unsettled about something.

Telepathy?

I wouldn't be surprised.

Strangely enough, Alfred seems…different than last time I saw him, and different from the stories I've heard about him. Oh, he's a fruitcake alright--there's no denying that--but lately he seems…and perhaps this is just my imagination…but he seems to care more. At least, where family is concerned.

Dad is really on the spot. He would rather save Spade than mess around with Alexandra, but he is afraid that if he lets her go Alexia will not keep her word. And she probably won't.

Which means someone had better do something before this turns ugly.

" Take me instead." I offer boldly, hoping I don't sound like some lame wannabe hero-guy in a B movie, " Let her go and you can have me." 

I'm not really sure what I'll do once she has me, but the important thing right now is to make sure Spade is safe.

Alexia is amused. " That's got to be the oldest trick in the book you inferior ponce. What kind of fool do you take me for? I let her go and you'd just grab her and scuttle away under some rock like the insignificant insect you are."

Damn. She's going to be a tough nut to crack. And I dislike being called 'inferior ponce' and 'insignificant insect'. " Hey, what do you call your precious ants then? " I throw, " I'm not the one with the insect fetish here. Face it, I have the T-2 virus. Which you want. Spade does not. Kill her, and all you'll get is two incredibly powerful, incredibly brassed off Weskers out for revenge. You have more to gain by letting her go and taking me."

Alexia is unmoved. " Don't be absurd. You'd fight. Wesker would get away with my daughter. I grow tired of games."

" Then stop playing them! " Dad spits before I have time to reply, " You don't trust me, I don't trust you. Can't you see the problem here? Either way we both lose. How about this: unhand my daughter, and I give you my word I will unhand yours. We could both do it on the count of three. Then you could fight me like a real woman instead of cowering behind your loser family."

Sounds fair enough to me.

However, Alexia has other ideas. " Your word? " She laughs with that insane, aristocratic snob-tone I've come to know and hate, " Don't make me laugh! " She shakes her head mockingly. " Alfred! Ash! Come up here."

To do that they will have to pass me, a notion neither one of them is hot on.

" What about…" Ash jabs a nervous finger in my direction.

" Ignore him! If he loves his sister he will not bother you."

" Um…what if he doesn't? " 

Alexia is not a patient little ant queen. " Just do as I say. I know what I'm doing."

" Oh, I would not bet on that." Dad seethes with barely controlled anger; eyes burning in hate. Alexandra lets out a startled yelp as the tip of one of the deadly blades brushes her throat.

Alfred and Ash cringe by me slowly, afraid I might lash out any second and attack them. I let them go. As far as real threats go, they're low-man on the totem pole. They hurry up the ladder as quickly as possible with looking back every two seconds.

Alexia a.k.a. the Soulless Wicked Witch shifts her eyes to Alexis. " Do you still want to be a Redfield? You're fighting a losing battle, you know."

" Yeah, now would be a good time to switch sides." Ash agrees, " I know I would if I were you." Both he and Alfred reach their matriarch, Ash to the left and Alfred to the right. 

Alexis glances up at her brother, her expression unreadable.

Ash only laughs. It is a dry, cruel sound not unlike Alfred's but with a much less feminine tone. At least he does not sound like a woman. I'd say that's the only thing the boy has going for him. " Oh come on! In case you haven't figured it out by now, it was me who shot Maggie." 

" Really? That was…daring." 

However, I have no time to fully process this comment before fast-paced footsteps thunder from the other room, and seconds later Chris and Claire explode onto the scene through the already-ajar door.

Beautiful. It gives me an idea. A wildly insane idea makes for a wildly insane plan, but even a wildly insane plan is better than no plan at all. Though I'm afraid poor Chris is not going to like it.

He has no time to react--all he sees is a black blur, and within a second I have him held firmly by the back of his neck with one hand. My other hand grips both wrists and holds his arms back over his shoulders at a painful angle--a slight tug will break them instantly.

Now I, too, have a bargaining chip.

" Alan, what are you…"

" Shut up Chris! " I bark, trying my best to sound mean. I turn to Dad, " What do you say to a trade? Chris for Alexandra? "

Unfortunately, neither Chris nor Claire understand my plan, or that I mean him no serious harm.

It is a good thing I have him from behind and cannot see his face right now. " Why you backstabbing sonuva…" He tries and fails to move his arms. Big surprise. He is very strong by mortal standards, but he would have to be Superman to break my grip.

Having failed in that, he kicks backwards and hits my knee. It doesn't really hurt.

I tighten my grip around his wrists, sinking my nails deeper into his flesh and pulling down just a tiny bit more.

" Chris, don't force me to break your arms." I hiss in a savage, guttural voice that doesn't sound much at all like mine.

God I hate this. But I have to make it believable or Dad won't buy. Chris is acting exactly the way I want him to.

Luckily, Claire knows better than to try and take me on single-handed. Not that I'd actually hurt her much… "Alexis, help me…"

" Sorry but I'm afraid this is _your _problem." Alexis huffs, " I'm going to join my _real_ family, who can actually protect me from traitorous Weskers."

" That's the spirit! " Ash screams from above, halfway leaning over the very railing where the rest of his family watches, amused.

" _What?! _How can you just betray us like that?! We cared for you! "

" So what." She heads up the ladder and straight to Alfred's side, and I swear he looks relieved.

" Stupid Ashford! Has everybody taken their _crazy_ pills today? " Claire roars, " You two were supposed to be on our side! "

" Walk." I order Chris, and give him a rude shove to get him started. He struggles again, but to no avail. 

Just as I'd suspected, the entire Ashford family is too engrossed in the little drama unfolding to be concerned with anything else, including killing Spade. It is critical I keep it this way. 

Hurried footfalls warn of Claire, and I retaliate by lightly kicking backwards; timing the blow perfectly and catching her in the stomach with just enough force to drive her back.

It was not a powerful blow--she will be fine. Well, aside from the wind being knocked out of her for a minute or two.

I feel like such a backstabbing ass. 

What I do, I do to save lives. Once this is over, we can all just have a good laugh at it. Somehow, this thought does little to cheer me up. 

" Traitor! " Chris hisses, " We never should have trusted you! "

Dad is amused. " Why Alan, I didn't know you had it in you. Ok, so maybe I did, but frankly I didn't expect it to surface this soon." He laughs, " Tell me, why so much to save one child? "

" I'll just say I have my reasons." I come to a halt a mere four feet away from him, Chris held out in front like a giftbasket.

Behind me, Claire doesn't stir, but I do hear her breath. Quickly, I chance a glance over my shoulder and see her laying on the floor next to the door in a miserable heap.

A sudden dread wells up within me. Maybe I hit harder than I thought?

I turn my attention back to my father, aware that all eyes--especially blue ones--are now on me. The ball's in my court.

Dad glances up briefly, noting the Ashfords hovering overhead like vultures. " You can't be trying to impress your lady. Looks like she just switched teams. Then again, what did I tell you about Ashfords? "

I grow annoyed. " Chris for Alexandra. Do we have a trade or not? I'm not going to wait all day."

" You can't be serious! " Chris throws, face to face with what was once his respected leader. This time I chose to totally ignore Chris's comment.

It isn't easy. 

Dad narrows his eyes on me, his whole face taking on a more serious tone. " Deal." He removes those lethal blades from Alexandra's throat and tosses her towards me, no doubt expecting me to do the same.

I don't.

In one fluid motion I release Chris's neck for a split second and clock Dad a good one in the face, sending him backwards.

" Run! " I hiss urgently, my word meant for Alexandra.

She doesn't wait to be told twice.

Dad is not pleased. " Why you little…" He wipes a hand across his nose and it comes away bloody. " I should've known! "

" Oh, so you were just pretending to…" Chris starts, relieved. However, it is a bit early for him to celebrate.

Before anything else can happen, I turn to face Alexia. " Now that that little formality is taken care of, the same deal stands for you. Chris for Spade."

" _What?! _" Chris sounds so very beyond the meanings of the words 'shocked' and 'upset'.

Just as I'd guessed, Dad catches on to part of my little plan. Chris's life for Spade's. I can see how it's all painfully simple in his mind. He makes no move to stop me. 

" So that's your little plan. In that case, all is forgiven." He doesn't really sound like he means the last part, but it's nice to hear in an odd way. " It's a good trade! " He throws to Alexia, reminding me of a used-car salesman, " I've been wanting to kill this idiot for years now! And being that he murdered you with a linear launcher, I would think you'd want revenge too."

Alexia is skeptical. " Are you kidding? After what Alan just pulled with you? How do I know he wouldn't try the same with me? "

I shrug. " Could you block such a blow? "

" Of course! "

" Then what do you have to be afraid of? " I approach the ladder, gouging Chris to move.

" Ashfords? Wesker wasn't bad enough, now you're going to hand me over to the _Ashfords?! _"

" Sorry, but I love my sister. Being a big brother yourself, surely you must understand."

Chris's only response is a defeated sigh. I feel his muscles relax under his grip, and he lowers his head, giving up all hope. He knows he cannot get free, and even if he did my dad would be there in a flash. His posture now is so pitiful, as if he were letting go of everything that ever meant anything.

I am so glad I cannot see his face because I'm not sure I'd be able to got through with it without giving myself away.

I can do a good impersonation of my father, but when it comes to hurting those I care about I'm just lame.

" Alan, if you really are my nephew, and if we ever meant anything to you…"

" _Nephew? _" Dad laughs, " Chris, where would you get such a crazy idea? "

Alexia's reaction is pretty much the same. " The Weskers and Redfields are related? "

Dad's eyes flash. " No! We most certainly are not! "

" Actually, it's true." I confess, keeping my tone flat and unemotional to hide my true feelings, " I ran into Grandpa Redfield today. You know, Chris's dad? Turns out you married Chris's illegitimate sister. Mom had a different last name because she was adopted as a baby by some other family."

" You must be joking! " Dad howls, " This…I can't have…I didn't…"

" Much as I wish it weren't true, it is." Chris mutters, " Clarice was my sister just as much as Claire." 

Dad is in a state of denial. The equivalent of a Texas-sized state. " Come on, did it ever cross your mind that maybe the old man was just pulling your chains? If he's Chris's dad, he's gotta be…what, ninety? Probably some old cojur stuck in a wheelchair…wait a minute, what would he be doing here? "

" Looking for his kids? " I supply, " And he wasn't wheelchair-bound."

" And he's _not _ninety! " Chris snorts, giving my father the evil eye, " Do I insult _your_ father? "

" Too late for that." Dad says, pulling a black cloth from his pocket and using it to wipe the blood from his knifelike 'claws', " Both of my parents are dead."

" Heh, no wonder you're so messed up. And where did you get those clawblade thingies? Have you been talking to Wolverine? "

Dad grins, displaying the gleaming two-foot-long blades proudly. " You like? Just a little something I picked up from someone's private collection. Amazing how obsessed some people are with _X-men_. Neat little invention, really. Makes me feel like a badass Logan."

" Well, are you going to trade? " Alexia interrupts, " Amusing as all this banter is, I have a very tight schedule to keep." 

" Yes, wouldn't want to miss that therapy appointment." Dad jeers. 

" Let's trade." I answer quickly before Alexia loses her patience and kills Spade anyway.

I prod Chris forward and stop at the ladder. This is going to pose a bit of a problem. Maybe I could just leap up. It's be awkward, but not as awkward as trying to climb up with Uncle Chris.

During this time I note that Alexis has shifted position and now stands directly behind her mother. None of the other Ashfords seems to notice…Alfred is busy staring at my father and Alexia and Ash are busy staring at me.

Spade doesn't say a word, but just stands perfectly still, frozen with fear--Alexia's sharp fingernails millimeters away from piercing her jugular.

The following moment is a blur. In a wild flash of movement, Alexis lunges at her mom--drawing something small and shiny from her jeans pocket and striking Alexia in the back with it.

" Gah! " Alexia's whole body spasms and she drops Spade, tingling with the after-effects of electricity. 

Before anyone has time to react, Alexis rams into her and knocks her over the railing.

" How could you…" Ash leaps for his sister, but Alexis slams the device against his chest and he collapses to the floor in a miserable jerking heap.

" That's for Maggie you backstabbing weasel! "

" What is that? " Alfred eyes the shiny gadget in Alexis's hand nervously, putting Alexandra between him and Ash.

I suppress a grin. Of course Alexis isn't a traitor.

Home free, Spade dashes past the stricken Ashfords and nearly falls down the ladder to Dad and I.

Alexis gives me a thumbs-up. " Tazer."

" I never even knew you had it." I admit. My relief is short-lived.

The deadly standoff is over, but a shock from even the most powerful tazer isn't going to be enough to slow Alexia down for more than one second.

" Um…Alan? I really hope you're just playing, because if you're not…"

" Oh. Sorry." I release Chris, " I wasn't really going to give you to Alexia. Heck, even I don't hate her _that _much! "

Chris flexes an arm painfully. " Ouch. You could've been a bit more gentle, you know. I thought you were going to rip my arms right out of the sockets! " His gaze shifts to Claire, and his eyes fill with worry.

" I didn't hit her very hard." I remark, sensing the inevitable question.

" Daddy! " Spade rushes into to Dad and is rewarded with a quick hug.

The sweet reunion is all to brief. 

Alexia rises from the floor--her once blonde hair dyed red with supertyrant blood. She looks pissed. " _You! _" She glares up at Alexis hatefully, " How _dare_ you! " A quick flick of her wrist sends a flaming ball of fire hurtling towards Alexis.

Thankfully, Alexis is quick on the draw and bounds to the side, the fireball exploding harmlessly against the wall and coming closer to hitting Alfred.

" Alexis, come on, let's get out of here! " I really don't want to stay and live up the party with Alexia.

" Stay awhile." Alexia swivels her head around and the door closes all on it's own as she does so, locking with a metallic 'click.' " I have something to show you."

" Why do I have a feeling it's going to be something we won't like? " Chris grouses, already at Claire's side and helping her up. 

Claire. I'd almost forgotten about her.

Back on the catwalk, Alexis starts for the ladder but Ash grabs her by the arm. " Stay with us! " He sneers.

" Ouch! Let go! " Alexis tries to pull free.

" Ash, you shouldn't…" Alfred starts--the sharp slap of Ash striking his sister across the face cutting him off.

That's it. I've had it with that miserable wretch! I gather my feet beneath me and propel myself into the air. I land perfectly on the catwalk right next to Ash. Before he has time to react, I grab his arm and pull. And I am not gentle about it, either.

" Ow! " I tear him away from Alexis and barely have time to enjoy the fear registering on his wimpy face before I pitch the ungrateful little welch over the railing; using him as a weapon with which to knock his mother back down with.

Now all I have to deal with is Alfred, and Alfred is not the least bit interested in fighting me. " Come on! " He grabs Alexandra's arm and pulls her back, as if afraid I might harm her.

" Hold on." I scoop Alexis up in my arms as if she were a doll and jump over the railing, landed rather soundly on my feet not far from Chris and Claire.

Alexia is not pleased. " Get off me you blithering idiot! " She gives Ash a rough shove that literally sends him sailing through the air with a high-pitched " Yiiiiiii!!! "

I set Alexis down and reach for my cure-gun. It's time to end this Ashford nightmare. No sooner have I decided this, however, then something truly horrendous happens.

Straightening herself out, Alexia's body bursts into an inferno of red flames rising higher and higher until they consume her completely. As the flames grow higher, so does she--her once lithe form twisting and mutating out of control until it is an unrecognizable gigantic mass filling most of the room. When the flames dissipate, Alexia has become a nightmare mutant ant creature easily higher than the railing of the second floor ring. Her now ugly, bloated pink-brown-and gray bulk sprouts several writhing tentacles; her once beautiful face a charred gray shadow of it's former self. And hair--forget about hair, it all got petrified during the mutation and now hangs in one solid gray rock-like off the side of her face, framing crimson eyes. 

" Alexia, you didn't have to go and do _that_! " Alfred gasps, completely horrified.

Ash looks onto his newly mutated mother with fear-struck eyes. " Um…you do remember I'm your son, right? "

Alexia's only response is a fierce high-pitched shriek loud enough to break every pane of glass in the entire building and make a blaring tornado siren jealous with envy.

In short, it is not pleasant. I'm forced to cover my ears. I am now faced with a decision: I can either try and break the door down so my non-virused friends and family can escape, or I can try and nail Alexia with the cure.

I have to hurry. Either way, the evil bitch queen is not going to wait patiently while I make up my mind.

A huge tentacle reaches for me; a writhing serpent of rancid pink and gray flesh. I leap aside and the appendage strikes the floor with a wet slap. Euww.

" Come on, let's take her! " Dad decrees, making up my mind for me. 

We have to stop Alexia. Nobody's going to be safe while she's still alive. Right now, while both of us are together, is our best chance. Powerful as she may be, she lacks our speed, and she still doesn't know I have the T-Veronica cure.

I grab the cure-gun from my pocket and dodge a spray of green poison gas while trying to get in the right angle to pull off a good shot.

Let's see…most of her body is covered in that scaly gray armor--except her neck.

Making a good shot is not going to be easy. The area in front of me is a jungle of twirling tentacles and random jets of green gas. I dive to a safer spot, raise the pistol to take aim…and flinch in pain. My ankle!

I look to the floor and for the first time notice dozens of little green bugs the size of tea saucers skittering around the polished metal and traveling up my socks. Not a comfy feeling. Especially since each is armed with a set of vicious mandibles which they use to tear at my exposed flesh.

I shake my legs wildly, doing an insane little dance called 'Stomp The Bug'.

So many of them!

" Heh, what's wrong, got ants in your pants? " Ash laughs from off to my right, thinking it all very funny until an out-of-control tentacle belts him across the stomach.

I manage to dislodge all of my closest 'friends' and stomp them into slimy green goo.

" Watch out for the bugs! " Chris warns. So _now_ he tells me.

" Yeah thanks. I hadn't noticed them crawling all over my body." I throw, not in the best of moods.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Dad charging Alexia with those knifelike clawblades. He is a blur of black ramming the sharp blades into her…stomach? Midsection? Base? Hard to tell on a creature shaped like a bulbous volcano. Instead of blood, a frothy red-orange pus erupts from the punctures and ignites, traveling up Dad's hands. He leaps back and tries to beat the flames out--narrowly missing another jet of fire.

Perhaps I should have worried more about my own predicament.

The next thing I know I am on my face on the floor; the cure-gun sliding away and out of my reach. Ouch.

Those damned tentacles--she swatted me like a bug! Speaking of which, more of the little critters race towards me, delighted by my fall and itching to burrow into more of my underwear. I spring to my feet just in time.

A weird chuffing sound rents the air, and a vile green acid falls all around like an abominable rain--bursting into flame upon impact of any solid surface.

I am lucky none of it touched my hair. Weird thing to worry about in a time like this, but bald spots are so very, very unattractive.

Suddenly, it is as if a switch is flicked setting Alexia from 'squash the insects' to 'destroy everything that lives'.

Tentacles everywhere! I leap one and dodge another; twisting, rolling, twirling in an amazing display of acrobatics that would leave even the best Olympic superstar drooling with envy.

No time to think, just jump! I twist and squirm, avoiding blow after blow and listening to the frustrated wet slaps of appendages missing their mark. Unfortunately, the chore of staying upright gives me little time to focus on anything else, including my goal.

It's complete pandemonium! A madhouse!

Everyone who can hugs the curvature of the wall, more often than not getting knocked to his or her butt by a wild tentacle.

Dodging bugs , poison gas jets, and a fiery acid rain all while still damp and smelly from my encounter with the snake make this by far one of the most unpleasant experiences in my life.

Dad and I had trained for years for this fight, and it is now that I realize the fatal flaw to our plan--quite blatantly, we hadn't expected to have to play dodge-the-tentacle.

I catch a glimpse of Chris, Claire, and Spade trying to pick the lock on the door. Not far away, Alexis struggles on her hands and knees trying to retrieve the cure-gun.

Ash is on his butt groaning and rubbing the side of his head. Most of the tentacles seem to be trying to avoid him, but a few occasionally miss their mark and whomp him a good one, and I don't suppose Alexia will ever apologize.

Alfred and Alexandra watch on from the catwalk, safe from Alexia's punishment.

The little green bugs are an intent army marching over to inconvenience Chris and the others. I have the displeasure of seeing a fresh batch emerge from under a throbbing pink flap of grotesque skin at the base of the Alexia-thing. I suppress the urge to throw up.

I could've went my entire life _without ever _seeing that.

Alexis has almost reached the T-Veronica cure when a gigantic tentacle flattens her. 

Seeing an opening in the sea of tentacles, I dive for our best chance of victory.

At that very moment, things go from bad to a hell of a lot worse.

A slender tentacle smaller and quicker than the rest erupts from the center of the Alexia-thing and strikes Claire through the back. As if that were not bad enough the other tentacles--which had simply been annoying inconveniences up until now--suddenly decide to sprout organic red razor-blades each over three feet long!

It's like being trapped inside a salad-shooter!

" Now that's not fair! " Dad complains as one of the fearsome blades knick his arm, drawing a bright red line across his skin. He leaps up and lands on the second story ledge. Then he grabs the safety-railing and yanks a good length of metal bar free; raising his new weapon to use like a spear.

He never gets the chance.

A monstrous tentacle slams on to him, biting through the catwalk. Metal screams and rips as the whole section gives way, taking my father with it.

Yells and screams rent the air all at once making honing in on a single one all but impossible.

God, what have we gotten ourselves into? I had no idea Alexia would be this powerful. 

The whipping tentacles are getting harder to avoid now--a sharp sting and a deep red line appears on my arm, cutting deep--almost to the bone.

There's no doubt about it--if I get hit too many more times in just the right places, I'm toast. Perhaps if I weren't so physically drained I'd fare better, but the fact is that I've been on the go fighting practically all day long with little rest. That's hard even on a T-2 carrier.

In the fray of the battle, I hear Claire scream something about being infected.

Perfect. The icing on the vomit cake.

I snatch the cure gun and am faced with another decision.

Attack Alexia or save the cure for Claire?

I love Claire like a sister, but if I don't stop Alexia _none_ of us are going to survive.

Well…I could escape right now if I wanted to. Walls never stopped me, but I would never abandon my friends. I'm no Brad Vickers. I would rather die fighting Alexia than live with the guilt of running away.

Up! Down! Left! Up again! The blades on some of the tentacles slice my flesh, ripping through the fabric of my clothes and cutting deep. My blood drips to the floor where it is lapped up by throngs of bugs; which die upon ingesting it, my virus no doubt reacting violently to the T-Veronica inside of them.

I can't keep this up forever. All I need is one second without those bloody tentacles lashing at me…

" Aaaaaaaaaaarrrrgg!! " A sharp howl of pure agony rises above the racket of the tentacles and eclipses all other sounds.

Ash backs away from my father, clutching his face which has become a bloody mess. Dad slashes him again--this time in the stomach--his clawblades digging in deep.

Ash gives a heartrending, terrible cry, and falls forward face-first in a painful ball.

The thrashing tentacles stop. Alexia's mutated head turns to face my father, her bloodred eyes locking onto him with deadly intent.

" Got your attention now, do I? " Dad laughs wickedly. Being smashed through the catwalk seems to have done remarkably little in the way of injuring him.

Not ten feet away from where Ash lays bleeding to death, Alexis looks on--her face a mask of pure terror. She looks ready to run in and help. That would be a very bad move on her part.

" Then watch…this! "

I can't do it. I can't just stand around like a monkey and watch Alexis watch her brother die.

Dad's clawblades drift down as if in slow motion--aimed for Ash's neck.

In a flash I am there, ramming into my father like a runaway train with no brakes.

" Yeeeah! " We plow through the wall and into the next room, and I just happen to land atop his back.

" Yeouch! I know who's back you're on, but who's side are you on? "

I don't care. Without wasting another second, I jump off and race back through the hole. 

We have a way out! Now all I have to do is take care of Alexia. Thankfully, she still seems to be in a bit of a stupor. I raise my gun and aim for her neck. My finger tightens on the trigger…

No. Use it to save Claire. I freeze. The voice came from inside my head, almost like a thought only not mine… Please hurry, I can't keep this up for long. Alexandra! The voice belongs to Alexandra!

I look up to see Alexandra leaning over the bottom half of the railing of the catwalk, a faint blue aura shimmering around her like magic. I have no idea what she's doing, but whatever it is it seems to have put Alexia into a trance.

" Spade come on! " Dad calls. 

Without a second's hesitation my sister runs over and joins our dad; who scoops her up into his arms. " But what about…"

The rest of Spade's words are lost as Dad zips off through the hole, either not noticing or not caring about Alexia's strange situation. Any other time I might try to convince Spade to stay with me, but right now I don't really care. She's safe, and that's all that matters.

" Let's go! " Using Alexia's stupor to my advantage, I zip over to the original door and introduce the lock to my fist. The door pops open. It probably wouldn't be a good idea for Chris and Claire to go out Dad's way lest he decide to turn around and finish what Alexia started.

" Here." I shove the cure-gun into Chris's hands. Positioning the barrel carefully over Claire's wrist, he squeezes the trigger and shoots her with it.

" Owww…that didn't feel very good." Claire complains dreamily, her voice sounding far off.

" What are you complaining about?" Chris says wryly, " It's bound to feel a lot better than mutating." 

" Go on, I'll watch your backs."

Chris gives me a thumbs-up and helps Claire stagger out of the room. " Thanks, Nephew."

" Hey, no prob."

He turns back to help Claire along, which is a painfully slow process. Being stabbed through the gut with a tentacle and infected with a virus have made her slow and weak. She is going as fast as she can.

Unfortunately, this happens to be average pouring speed for a bottle of molasses.

" Alexis, let's go! "

" Wait."

" What do you mean w…." I stop midsentence, following her gaze to the Alexia-monster.

Alexia is shrinking rapidly, gray skin transforming back to peach, blobs of her bulbous mass shriveling up and disintegrating. 

_Schwoop! Schwoop! _Her tentacles are drawn back into her body like wet pieces of spaghetti smacking into an enormous mouth. Red eyes dim and close. The thick gray protrusion covering part of her head turns yellow and splits back into thousands of individual hairs. The change happens very quickly. Within moments, a completely human Alexia lays unconscious on the floor, not a stitch of clothing covering her.

I turn away, feeling the color build up in my cheeks. How awkward!

Overhead, Alexandra faints on the catwalk, completely drained.

" Alexia! " Alfred rushes down the ladder and to his sister's side. It is probably not the first time he has seen her naked, and I doubt it will be the last. And I really must stop thinking about it--that train of thought is headed for a dozen places I don't want to go.

" Ash…" Careful not to glance in Alexia's general direction, I watch Alexis approach her fallen brother.

" Are you al…." Alexis's next words stick in her throat, her eyes widen in surprise, and I don't blame her because when Ash pulls his hand away from his face it is a scene for the nightmare books.

Three bloody lines run the length of the left half of his face, the middle one cutting a path straight through his eye! 

Or should I say, there is no eye. What is left of it is pouring in a dark red river down his cheek in messy chunks. It is enough to make even me sick, and I do not gross out easily.

Alexis covers her face with both hands, utterly horrified. " Ohmygod Ash! "

" Get out of here! Just get out! " Ash spits, " Haven't you done enough damage already? "

A second later, and Alfred too realizes his son's plight. " Uh…don't worry…I'm sure it's not life-threatening…"

Ash doesn't even look at his family. Instead, he fixes his one good eye on me. " _You_! You should've just let him kill me! Why didn't you let him kill me?! Do you have any idea how sodding _painful_ this is? You're superhuman, come over here and finish me off! Please, if there's any mercy left in you at all, free me from this pain! I dare you! "

I don't know what to do. Slowly, I make my way over to Alexis. She turns to me with a tear streaming down her face.

" What are you waiting for, bastard?! Kill me, you've won! "

" Please, I beg you to spare him." Alfred pleads in a soft, subdued voice that barely sounds at all like his , " We'll go far away, you'll never hear from us again I bloody-well hope."

" You're supposed to be on my side! " Ash snaps, his destroyed eye-socket dripping gore, " I think I'm dying anyway! " 

For someone on his deathbed, Ash has plenty of life left to put into yelling.

Large parts of his blue uniform are stained violet…..he could bleed to death. Chances are he probably will. And it's hard telling what internal damage has been done. I've always hated Ash, but at this moment I pity him. Maybe if Alexis were not around I would put him out of his misery. But I just don't have the heart to kill her family in front of her. I'm not like my father. I can't do it. I just can't.

And Alexia…I wouldn't feel right taking her out while she lay unconscious in her birthday suite. 

I could very easily kill every evil Ashford in this room; put an end to their cruelty once and for all. 

I should.

But I don't.

Perhaps it is because of my own hopes and love for my murderer father that I am able to understand and relate to what Alexis must be going through right now. 

I rest a hand on her shoulder, and she gives it a gentle squeeze.

" Come on." My words are gentle, " Let's go home."

Alexis nods sadly, realizing, perhaps, that there is nothing we can do. " Alright."

We turn and head out the door, leaving the other Ashfords to their fate.

*************************************************************************

__

Anyone notice a change in Alfred's character lately? There is a reason for it. Perhaps I shall create a separate ficlet later on explaining this.


	33. Escape From Africa

__

**A/N: **I rephrased some of the wording this chapter to make it easier to both read and write. From now on in my stories, S.T.A.R.S., R.A.I.N., and the like will appear like this ( Stars ) ( Rain ) when someone is speaking and in the above form when not in open conversation. Besides being easier to write, it just seems more appropriate to me when people are talking. =^-^=

Chapter 33

Chris and Claire are easy to catch up with thanks to Claire's injuries. The hole through her stomach is rather small--only an inch or so in circumference--but it must hurt like a sonuvagun and would be enough to slow anyone down. Poor thing. The cure does seem to be working though, she's not turning green or mutating or anything. That's good.

" We're not far from my family's escape jets," Alexis states, taking the lead, " I can show you. "

" Alright." Chris manages, freeing up a hand to produce a radio, " Stars, this is Chris. Do you copy? "

The reply is instantaneous. " Loud and clear." Sounds like Jill's voice.

" Everyone on board and accounted for? "

" Yes. We're just waiting for you, Claire, Alexis, and Alan."

" There's been a slight change of plans. Alexis knows where a closer, more convenient escape jet is. Take off and we'll catch up with you in a few."

" You sure? " Her voice carries a nervous edge. 

Not that I blame her. This town, Sambabwia, is not a safe place to be in. In fact, a person would be safer walking around at night alone and unarmed in the alleys of Atlanta, Georgia, with cash in clear view. Not that I worry about muggers much these days…

" Jill it's okay. Really. It'll save us both time and…"

" That's weird."

" What? What's weird? " Chris stammers with the air of someone who has been attacked at the last moment by some hulking supermonster one too many times.

I really hope that's not the case. We have no useful weapons--if we happened to run afoul of such a beast I'd have to fight it, and I already feel drained enough as it is.

Please, would it be too much to ask to just get home safely for once?

Chris comes to a dead halt just before the stairs leading underground. A few feet ahead of him, Alexis freezes on the first step, politely waiting for us to join her.

I hold back a bit; guard the rear. There are two main doors I must worry about: a galley to the left, and a laundry room to the right. The laundry-room door is not labeled, but the overpowering smells of bleach, detergent, and treated fabrics make it all too obvious that that is what it is. A dryer tumbles from somewhere in the room, and a chilling moan reverberates off the walls betraying the presence of a single zombie.

Zombies do laundry? Ok, I don't even want to think about how that zombie managed to turn a dryer on, and I really, _really _don't want to think about what may be inside of said dryer.

There are at least ten zombies in the galley--I hear them staggering around aimlessly in their mindless trance. Sleepwalkers who will never awaken.

From the other end of the radio, Jill's voice pours on, " There's a fleet of helicopters up in the sky…seven of them! "

" Oh man," Chris groans, " The army? Umbrella? Who are we dealing with? "

" Neither." There is an uncomfortable pause, " Chris, have you heard of a company called Rain? "

" Rain? I've heard them mentioned but…"

" Rational Advancements In Nature," I blurt, surprising even myself on how I managed to remember exactly what each letter stands for, " They're good guys--Acid Rain despises them."

Chris rolls his eyes at me. " Alan, just because Acid Rain doesn't like them doesn't mean that they…"

" They're surrounding the village in a circle," Jill continues, " It looks like they're…they're dropping this green mist all over the town and outskirts." 

When Jill quits talking, and right before she lets off the button to cancel the feed, I can hear the choppers in the background.

" Green mist? " Claire frowns, " Sounds like they're fumigating."

" Hopefully for virus-carriers and not us." Chris says, then quickly adds, " No offense, Alan." 

" None taken." I wonder what….

_Thwack! _

I whip my head in the direction of the laundry room where the muffled thud of the zombie's body hitting the floor warns of company. Footsteps. Not clumsy or awkward, but silent and slow-drawn, like a big cat stalking prey.

" It doesn't appear to be toxic," Jill, " I just saw a bird fly through it unharmed. The choppers are starting to land…"

" Screw this, let's just get out of here."

" That's a good idea," I agree with my uncle, " Go on ahead, I'll cover the rear."

Alexis is all too eager. " This way! " She races down the stairs, the Redfield sibs following at a much slower pace. I watch as they disappear down into the dark abyss of a poorly lit stairway.

The laundry room footsteps are quieter now, as if the hunter is in place and ready to pounce. I catch a whiff of something sweet and coppery and know instantly who it is: my father.

I am ready to greet him when the door pops open. " Hi Dad."

Dad steps out, looking an odd mix of both annoyed and proud. " You knew it was me."

" Well…the scent of the T-2 virus did kind of give it away."

Dad shakes his head, the ghost of a grin pulling at his mouth. " I smell the same thing when you're around…coppery vanilla-ish smell, right? Got to where I didn't even notice it after awhile, but it's definitely the T-2 virus." He pauses a moment to sniff the air--as if demonstrating his point--and makes a face. " Eu, there's another smell on you and I can't say it's pleasant…."

" Lay off. Try getting swallowed by a giant mutant snake and see how good you smell. Where's Spade? " I ask, peering into the room past Dad. I don't see her. I do see a headless zombie laying at the foot of a still-going yellow dryer though. Two guesses as to how that happened.

" She's alright." Dad answers without emotion. He draws something from the black well of one of his side pockets, and it is now that I notice his clawblades have been fully retracted into the gloves.

I'm going to have to look into getting my own set of clawblade gloves. Dicing monsters would be a breeze! And when you factor in the status symbol and overall coolness…yes. A must have! They don't even look all that heavy--probably made from a combination of fabric, plastic, and metal alloys. And black is always in.

" Here." Dad opens his palm revealing a small and expensive-looking black cell phone with tiny little buttons and a viewscreen. Probably one of those message phones, I think. Or the kind that send pictures that they advertise on TV using Looney Tunes characters. " Take it."

I snatch the cell phone and stuff it into my still slightly-soggy slightly-smelly pants pocket. Amazing I still have one left, considering all I've been through today. 

" Thanks. What's the occasion? "

Dad scratches the side of his head awkwardly with one finger. " Er…call it a birthday present."

" Dad, my birthday was two weeks ago."

" Well then I guess it can be a _late _birthday present. Keep it with you at all times…if you're going to be running around with that pack of losers I at least want to make sure you don't lose what shreds of intelligence you may have left." Before I have time to reply, he pats my shoulder. " Take care, Son. Don't let that sorry excuse for a Stars Captain give you any hairbrained ideas. I'll be keeping in touch."

With that, he turns and zips off back into the laundry room and through an open door leading to a place I can't even begin to guess at.

" Take care of Spade! " I call after him, knowing he will hear. Now that Mom's gone someone has to keep an eye on things. 

Well, no point hanging around this creepy little African village any longer. I turn and rush down the stairs after my new family.

~~~~~~~****************************************************************~~~~~~

I sit at the back of one of the luxurious Ashford jets with Alexis as Chris takes the controls, keeping a wounded Claire at his side. She seems to be doing much better now, but it will take a while for her to heal completely. I'm not overly-upset with the severity of the wound; it's really less serious than I'd originally thought. She won't be able to jump up and do back-flips and cartwheels for awhile, but it's not in the life-threatening category. It's a good thing we got her the cure to T-Veronica virus though or this story would have a far different twist indeed.

Now it feels good to be able to just sit back and relax; take a break from chaos. Within minutes we are air-borne and flying away from bloody Africa.

Though not as sleek or futuristic as Dad's jet, this jet has very comfy lodgings; Alexis and I are sitting atop a plush burgundy loveseat next to a window--I happen to be closest to the window--and the whole are, though relatively small, has a nice, homey feel about it. It smells new and expensive. Then again, we are talking about the Ashfords here. I imagine they could afford just about anything they want.

Alexis nuzzles into me, and I repay the action by gently running a hand through her hair in a comforting petting motion. The dull hum of the engine threatens to put us both to sleep.

Hm, sleep doesn't sound all that bad right now. 

Alexis snuggles under my arm. " Thank you."

" Thank you? What for? " I mumble, feeling rather upset with the way the whole mission turned out, " I just led us all into a nightmare. The mission was a total failure. People got killed and I couldn't even save my family."

" Hey, it's alright. You tried." Her kind words do little to cheer me up.

" Yeah, I tried." I grouse, feeling like the biggest failure on the planet. I set out to rescue Mom and Spade. Instead, I got Barry killed, Mom killed, and Dad was more of a help to Spade than I was. This mission really wasn't necessary. Dad could've rescued them. Maybe if he weren't so busy stalking me and the S.T.A.R.S. he would've found Mom sooner. Then again, it's hard to tell what would've happened. What's done is done.

And I can't change it.

Mom. I miss her. God, I miss her.

" What I meant was, thank you for not killing my family." Alexis clarifies, her voice barely above a whisper, " I know you were thinking about it. I could see the doubt in your eyes, feel your conflict."

" Yeah well…I could never do that to you. The important thing is that we escaped." I try and turn my head away; watch the clouds drift by from out my little window, but Alexis grabs my chin gently and turns my face back to hers. Even worn out and dirty, she still looks beautiful. Her eyes seem to shine.

" The important thing is that you triumphed over your darker nature. You faced it and won. You're not a Wesker Junior. You have levels of self-control and understanding your father can't even conceive of. It doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's how you play the game that counts, and I could see that you were fighting with all of your heart and soul." She rests her head in my lap, " You did all you could. And…hey, it wasn't a complete bust--you knocked the tar out of quite a few baddies."

I force a dry laugh. " Yeah, I guess I did." My laughter quickly fades. " What about Alexandra? I can't help but to think that we should've rescued her." The realization that we left young Alexandra behind with the other Ashfords doesn't sit well with me. We owe that little girl big time. It was only thanks to her influence over her mother that we were able to find the time to escape.

Mark was right: Alexandra has some pretty extraordinary powers. Alexia isn't going to like that. I don't feel right leaving her behind, but at the time I guess I was too caught up with escape issues to notice poor Alexandra. Aren't I a real hero?

Alexis shakes her head slowly, sadly. " No." She casts her eyes downward, " Alexandra was meant to stay with our parents. She may be their only shot at redemption. I believe she can help them. She is very wise for her age, even if she doesn't realize it yet."

" Aren't you worried your mom might, you know, kill her? " It's a legit worry. At this point, I wouldn't put anything past Alexia. She's a real witch. 

I wonder if she even has a soul.

Alexis bites her lower lip and looks me in the eye. " No. I don't know how, but somehow I just know she is going to be alright. Hard to explain…just a gut feeling, I guess." Her sudden laughter startles me, " Here we go again with the psychology. Geesh, seems like every time you see me I'm either all angsty and sad or going into a bigger-picture spiel. I swear, I'm not like this all the time! " 

" Hehe, I know. And I hope you're right about Alexandra. That little girl has some serious potential."

Our little moment of soulful-ness is interrupted when the door separating the cock-pit area from the passenger quarters cracks open and Chris steps in, a literal walking disaster covered in bruises, welts, and cakes of dried blood from said wounds. 

At the moment, our overall physical appearance isn't too different. His clothes, like mine, are torn and blood-soaked in too many places to count, and we both have hair that would turn Medusa herself into stone with fright.

_Boy, aren't we prepared for a social occasion? _I think sarcastically as he clears his throat. 

" Set the jet on auto-pilot for a minute. Just wanted to come back and check on you guys."

" Oh, we're okay," Alexis supplies, brightly " but you look like you missed the invention of the bath."

Chris's grin is a little forced. " None of us look our best right now…you could use some good 'ol soap and water yourself, Miss Ashford." Out of instinct, perhaps, he pats his spiky hair down before adding, " The Sambabwia situation is under control. I got ahold of the leader of that fleet of Rain helicopters and that green mist was the antidote to the T and G viruses. Takes out all of the zombies and monsters it touches. Anyway, they landed and are now securing the area. Apparently it's not the first time they've done this sort of thing. Good to know we have some allies in this unholy war." 

" Yeah." It is, especially allies with cures to viruses.

As long as they don't get in a hurry to make a cure to the T-2 virus…I have grown rather found of it. As long as I don't mutate or anything. Then again, I can't help but to think that if I were going to mutate it would've happened years ago. T-2 is different from the other viruses, that's for sure.

" Anything else you want to talk about, Captain? " I yawn. This surprises me--I never yawn. 

But the past day, or days as the case may be, have been very exhausting. I find myself fantasizing about the shower and bed again, and right now I don't know which sounds more inviting. 

Mm, nice warm bed.

I think I will take a nap on the flight home once Chris finishes with this discussion.

" Well, there is something." He makes his way down the narrow aisle of seats and leans over to face us on the backrest of the seat-bar ahead of us, resting his chin on his wrists and gazing at us intently. " I learned something today."

" Really? What's that? " I yawn again. I normally have better endurance than this--I wonder what could be making me so tired. My eyelids start to sag.

Alexis rests her head against my shoulder and leans further into me in a very relaxed fashion. Her eyes are only half open, and she looks ready to catch the train to Dreamland any second.

_No fair_, I think, _Who's going to be **my** pillow_? I guess I'll have to use the window.

I don't care. Right now, I could fall asleep with my head propped against a rock. Chris had better hurry and get his sentence out or he's going to lose me.

" I learned that I have two friends who I can trust completely with my life."

" Aw, that's sweet." Alexis purrs, " Thank you."

I laugh a bit, " You mean you're not still upset that I pretended to betray you? "

The corners of Chris's mouth pull up ever so slightly into the first faint stage of a smile. " Eh, I knew you were just playing all along; but hey, I had to make it believable, didn't I? Claire said she knew too. And we _both _knew what Alexis was up to. One question, and I know you're both about ready to fall asleep, but what happened to the Ashfords? I'm dying of curiosity here."

" They survived." I say simply, and leave it at that. There will always be time later for the more complete version.

I surrender to the bliss of sleep.

********************************************************************************

I awake to the sound of a phone ringing. My cell phone….I reach into my pocket and sit up, finding myself in a nest of soft blue blankets on a bed in a rather rustic bedroom.

What the…oh yeah, I guess I did come in earlier and hit the bed. Vague memories of the drive to Alexis's house and Alexis offering me the guestroom come to mind.

But what time is it now? I don't know. I don't even know what _day_ it is except for the fact that it is after October 17th.

Points for remembering the month, at least.

I click on the phone and try to mask the fact that I'm slightly miffed about being disturbed from my rest. " Hello? "

" Hey Alan." Dad's voice on the other end, " How you doing? " He sounds cheery, on the verge of laughter almost. Weird.

I stretch a bit, shake the sleep from my eyes. " Fine, I guess. What day is it? "

Now Dad does laugh. " It's the 19th, probably around 10 AM where you're at, I'm guessing. I'm sorry, was I interrupting anything? "

" Just my sleep. How's my little sis? " I snuggle with the blankets, wanting to get up but too warm and comfy to brave that first venture out into the frigid air. I don't deal with cold floor shock very well. 

" Spade? Oh, she's fine. I've decided to put her through training."

" Training? " I echo, a lump of fear swelling in my throat.

Did he give her the T-2 virus? I don't know why, but the idea scares me.

" Yes, training." Dad continues casually, " Spade is going to be my new partner in crime, since you turned out to be such a letdown. The girl shows serious potential. I'm very proud of her."

" You didn't…give her our virus, did you? "

" Oh, I would've liked to, but to be perfectly truthful T-2 is a very tricky virus. I wouldn't feel comfortable giving it to anyone else not on their deathbed until I know more about it."

Translation: he wants to refrain from giving Spade the virus until he is sure she will live up to his expectations. My father never was much for sharing. T-2 is rare and precious like gold, and he won't give super-powers to just anyone because that would mean competition. 

Of course, for as much is it has benefited me, I know very little about the magical virus which runs through my veins. Dad may be right. With any virus there is always a risk factor, and I would not share my virus with anyone else unless they were already on their deathbed. Accidental death of a friend…that's not a responsibility I want to face up to. 

In Dad's eyes, he has already screwed up with me. I don't let him lead me around by the nose, I think for myself, have different opinions, and I'm just not cruel enough for his tastes. I also have an annoying little thing called a conscience. 

In addition to all of that, it doesn't help that I protect Alexis and the Redfields from him.

When I don't immediately reply, he says, " Something else I found out today--good news."

" What? " My eyes fasten onto a mystical picture of a ship surrounded by dolphins on an angry sea. The red-orange glow of the sun can be seen faintly behind a screen of gray clouds, and an ominous black rock looms in the background. Not my favorite picture, but it does inspire some thought.

" We're not related to the Redfields. Common sense of biology. Let me lay it out for you: Chris and Claire both have type O blood. For that to be possible both of their parents would have to be type O. I'm type O. You following? "

I am. " Hey, I didn't _always_ zone out during biology class. I know that it takes two type O's to produce more type O's. Usually. At least, I've never heard of any exceptions…"

" But you have type A blood." Dad continues, " You couldn't have gotten that from me, it would've had to have been your mother. And there's no way she could have type A if she was truly Chris and Claire's sister. If that were true you would also have type O, and I happen to know for a fact that you do not."

He's right. That hadn't occurred to me before. There's something fishy about Thomas's story. Later on I think I will interrogate him. But just to be sure…

" You sure the Redfields are type O? "

Dad's voice takes on an agitated tone, " Alan, I did an extensive background check on Chris before I ever hired him for Stars. All of his medical reports listed him as type O. He had to have a blood transfusion once while he was in his teens--probably from playing chicken with a car--and that's where that little detail cropped up. Honestly, what's the big deal? Not being related to Redfields is the next best thing to killing them."

I decide not to rise to the bait. " You're right then, Thomas's little story doesn't check out. Where are you? "

" Currently residing in Europe. Got a nice little pad out in the English countryside with lots of space and a little river nearby. Wish you were here, I think you'd find it very relaxing."

" I've decided to settle down in Bayview. I like it here, and there's never a dull moment in the life of a Stars member."

Dad snorts. " Hmphf, I can't see why you'd rather work for peanuts rescuing cats from trees with the planet's biggest collection of losers when you could be touring the world with Spade and I striking fear into the hearts of all who would dare to oppose us. You're wasting your abilities staying there. As a T-2 carrier, you could easily become almost as feared and respected as me. I had big plans for us, Son. I can't believe you'd throw that all away for a boring life."

There's no point in arguing with him. He's not me; he could never understand. It's true I will miss the constant life and death excitement of dangerous missions with my dad and lodging in a new state/country almost every week, but I've finally found a legion of friends and I'm ready to settle down and start my own life. 

I'm tired of being lonely.

I'm ready to take a break from chasing around the countryside and get to know people better. I'll never have a normal life thanks to my virus, but honestly, I think I prefer it this way. 

Being nearly indestructible is rather cool.

And I know it will come in handy helping the few people who know the truth about Umbrella and other companies like it--a.k.a the S.T.A.R.S. gang--take these threats down one by one until none are left standing.

I'm happy with this decision. I don't need Daddy calling all the shots anymore.

" Well, that's just a classic example of difference of opinion and free will." I say and hang up.

I know I have not heard the last of him. He still has a vendetta with S.T.A.R.S. and we will probably end up fighting again later on down the road. He's still a very real and dangerous threat to my friends and the side of good in general.

I pray that Spade has the strength not to give into the bloodlust and cruelty like I did.

Well, I'm fully awake now. May as well get up.

Resting the cell phone on the bed, I stretch again and focus on my next task: showering. It's going to feel like Heaven, oh yeah.

******************************************************************************* 

Later on, after my shower and change of wardrobe, Alexis and I hook up with the S.T.A.R.S. in Twin Lakes Park to grieve for Barry and the other lives lost, including my mother and Maggie. 

Twin Lakes Park is barely outside of the city limits, and, not surprisingly, gets it's name from two separate little lake-lets framing the eastern and western boarders of the park but never actually touching. The central area is nice and green with plenty of trees and a huge playground for little kids consisting of swings, slides--the works. I hear fishing is good here, and there are plenty of ducks, Canadian geese, and little chipmunks and squirrels to spice the place up with just the right touch of wildlife. 

Reminds me a little of Crystal Lake; the place I first met Chris and Claire years ago.

Everyone is here: Carlos, Steve, Sherry, Rebecca, Thomas, Chris, Claire, Jill, Seth, Crystal, and, much to my disappointment, Natasha Marini. Normally this kind of park would be flooded with people, but today is overcast and cold , so our only other human company is a few old fishermen along the lakes.

Jill brought some patio chairs so we don't end up crowding each other off the picnic table which is covered with food of every imaginable kind. 

Carlos brought a cooler full of drinks, and I sip a Coke as I sit and listen to everyone's stories of the past and sympathy speeches, most about how they're all in a better place now with their families.

Well, Barry's with his family now and probably in a much happier place than he was roughing it without them here on earth. 

As for Maggie, the little I know about her I learned from Alexis, and I guess she was a big hearted woman. A little looney at times, but generous to a fault. She raised Ash as her own son since she couldn't have any children of her own. Sadly, her fatally mistake was getting involved with the Ashford family. The ungrateful snob turned on her like a vicious dog.

Their deaths are unfortunate, and I feel badly for everyone, but my mother's death hits me by far the worst. 

In some ways, I was closer to her than Dad. Losing her so suddenly left a hole inside of me which aches and aches. 

I'll always miss her.

I'll always love her.

Sometime during all the pep-talks and comforting speeches, Rebecca approaches my side near the fire, a spark of something new in her eyes. She is doing much better now--her stab wounds still have not healed yet whereas all of my physical injuries are vanished without a trace--but she seems much perkier and alive.

" Alan, I think your virus did something to me." She whispers in a low tone, her eyes flitting about like nervous radar making sure no one else heard. I wait for her to finish. " I…I don't get tired as easily as I used to anymore, I can hear and see things better…don't laugh, but I feel I could take on the whole world! "

I can't help but to laugh. Rebecca is very lucky to be alive, even more so since the virus could've reacted violently to her system.

" I said not to laugh! " Rebecca scolds.

I shake my head, grinning, " That's just the way I felt when I first woke up with my virus. Did you notice anything else improved? Strength, speed…anything? "

Rebecca shakes her head. " No. I don't think I got enough of your blood for that. And I don't think I can hear or see as well as you…it's just a slight increase really."

Without warning, she decides to surge forward and give me a friendly hug that very nearly knocks my chair and I over backwards.

" Wow, what's this for? "

She quickly backs off, blushing a bit, and I feel everyone's eyes on us. " Oh, just a little thank you for saving me. I would've died without you." To our circle of watchers, she says, " What? Can't a girl show a little gratitude to the guy who saved her life? "

Oh brother.

I leave my seat and stretch, warming my back by the fire. Earlier Alexis and I went shopping, and I bought a nice pair of blue jeans and a black shirt. They fit quite nicely. Except that now Sherry has taken to calling me Johnny Bravo.

And I'm not even wearing shades!

Of course, now that I can change my eyes whenever I want from blue-green and normal to red with yellow and slitted, I don't need them anymore. Practiced in front of the mirror after my shower, and found that by simply _willing_ my eyes to change, I can actually change them. Which is really weird, because I'd tried dozens of times before in the past using the same technique.

They are on blue-green mode right now--I can tell because my vision is blurred down to only slightly better than 20-20 and bright lights don't hurt so much.

When I change them back to virus mode, everything jumps into focus better and they become much more sensitive to light.

While I still enjoy wearing a pair of nice dark sunglasses--old habits die hard--I have decided not to around the S.T.A.R.S. for at least a week. I don't want to remind them of the loathed _Wesker_.

" Ah, Virus-Boy there doesn't want to draw attention to himself. He's afraid to have fun."

I cock an eyebrow at Steve, the source of the comment. " Oh? I'm sorry, I keep forgetting that this is a memorial service held in honor of Barry, Maggie, and Clarice. I should be partying it up."

Steve flushes with flushes with embarrassment, and Claire punches him in the side. " Steve! " She's also doing much better now, especially after her little doctor's visit earlier today. She received a few stitches and medications, but apparently the doctors didn't think that it was anything serious enough to merit an overnight stay.

Come to think of it, we are all very lucky to have survived that hellish place with no major injuries.

Ash certainly wasn't as lucky. Briefly, I wonder what has become of him. I honestly don't know if he survived or not.

I spot Thomas out in the playground playing with Seth and Crystal. Now would be a good time to ask the question that's been weighing on my mind ever since this morning.

I head on over to the play area and stop by Thomas next to the twirly slide where he is waiting to catch little Crystal.

" Come on Chrissy, come to Grandpa! " He holds his arms out at the end of the slide, totally oblivious to me. Crystal pushes off, and I wait for him to catch his granddaughter before I tap him on the shoulder.

" Wha…? " I have scared him He spins around and for a moment his face is gripped with fear. " Oh Alan, it's just you. Chris was just telling me about your infamous father on the ride over here, then you just come up and…"

I nod. " Yeah. I get that a lot. " 

" Hey look Kwistle, it's Uncle Alan! " Seth tugs on my pant-leg and I flash him a smile.

" Hey there, Kiddo. Having fun? "

Seth nods happily, too young to fully understand the concepts of death and grieving very well. Lucky him. " You were right…Mommy took me to the store 'an got me a bug-jar. See? " He holds up a little plastic toy for catching bugs in proud display.

" Awesome. You catch any yet? "

His smile evaporates, and he shoots an accusing glare at his little sister already on her way back up the kiddie slide. " No. Kwistle scares them all away."

He looks back up at me, shiny green eyes twinkling with the innocence of youth. It's really adorable.

Melts my heart.

" What happened to yer sunglwasses? "

The memory of Mauler's ugly bulk smashing my expensive shades resurfaces.

Damn supertyrants.

" They got broke." I admit.

" But what happened to yer eyes? They usta be really pretty." He actually sounds upset. I think I can fix that.

" Watch." I flash my eyes to red-and-gold for a second, allowing him to see.

Seth's own eyes widen like saucers in amazement. " Neat! How can you _do_ that? Can ya show me? "

I shake my head and give him a gentle pat on the head. " Sorry, it is not something you can learn. You'll understand when you get older." I kneel down until I am eye-level with him. " You know what? " I whisper, as if I were about to share some big secret, " I just saw a ladybug on that purple flower over there." I point him in the right direction where an unsuspecting ladybug is perched on a violet.

His face brightens with excitement. " Cool! Thanks Uncle Alan! " He turns and chases off after the insect, and I straighten myself back up.

Thomas laughs, Crystal now held in his arms. " You're very good with kids."

" Eh, I know." I agree, flattered. I always did have a soft spot for young children.

Off in the distance I hear splashing in the water as one of the fishermen makes what must be a decent-sized catch. 

Never was much for fishing myself. A little on the boring side sitting for hours on a lake waiting for fish to bite a hook. Then again, there are people who practically revolve their whole lives around it. 

" Um…Thomas? There's something I've gotta ask you…were you telling the truth when you said my mother was your daughter? "

Thomas sets Crystal down My question has unnerved him a bit… is getting a little nervous now.

" Yes, that was the truth…"

" Thomas," I cut in, " The entire Redfield family save Crystal and Seth have type O blood. So does my father. I have type A. A positive, to be more specific. Do you see why this doesn't add up? "

Thomas frowns and shifts his gaze to Seth She chasing bugs through the grass. " I can see there's no fooling you Alan. You are as sharp as your father. Clarice was in fact my daughter. Everything I told you and the others is true, save one tiny detail." He keeps his voice low, afraid someone else might hear.

I cross my arms. " What tiny detail? "

Thomas shifts uncomfortably, afraid to meet my gaze.

There's something up here, and I intend to get to the bottom of it. 

" It's okay," I coax, worried I may have frightened him too badly. He does, after all, know that I am very powerful, " I'm not going to rip your throat out, I just want to know the truth."

He turns to face me, eyes cast downward with a disheartened, almost ashamed frown cut into his granite features. " If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone else, especially not my children. If you do word may get around to my wife, and I don't think she'd take it well."

I think I know what he is hinting at. " I promise."

" Clarice had a different mother than Chris and Claire. It was true that times were rough back then and our relationship was rocky at best, so we decided to set her up for adoption. Later on I met my wife…and the rest, as they say, is history. The real kicker to this is that your grandmother was someone my wife Helen knew, and , and they weren't exactly the best of friends. It's a complicated story. The truth is that I am indeed your grandfather, and Chris and Claire are your half uncle and aunt, which would make Seth and Crystal your half-cousins. But please…don't let this get out. Helen means the world to me and I would hate to hurt her like that."

I give Thomas a thumbs-up. " Your secret's safe with me, Gramps."

At least that explains how I can have type A blood. Apparently my grandmother had it and in turn passed it to my mother who passed it to me.

I don't think I'll tell my father about this. Let him think what he wants.

Thomas gives me a friendly push. " Thanks! And another thing, do you think your sister will be okay with…with your dad? "

" Physically? Yes. My dad has done some very horrible things, but he would never let someone hurt his family. Mentally…that's hard to say. Let's just hope Spade has the good judgment not to fall into his frame of mind."

I'm not crazy about the idea of Spade living with our dad, especially not after what he told me on the phone earlier, but there is nothing I can do about it . 

Besides, maybe it will take his mind off Bayview for awhile.

" Seth! Crystal! Time to eat! " Jill calls. Seth and Crystal race towards their mother at the picnic table near the grill.

The scent of burgers reaches my nose, and I am inclined to follow.

I catch sight of Natasha busily gabbing away at one of the tables, and it clicks with me.

Enrico! I remember my promise to him back down in the pit, the promise that I would go to the site of the Spencer mansion and try to find his letter to Natasha. That's all dandy and all except for the tiny detail that I don't know where the old mansion was, other than the fact that it was in the Arklay mountains near the midwestern town of Raccoon City where I used to live.

Of course, Raccoon City was nothing but a huge crater in the ground last I checked. I do not know if they have made any efforts to rebuild it.

I approach Chris near the grill, and as luck would have it he turns just then to look at something, accidentally smacking me in the face with a hot spatula.

" Ouch! " I back away, rubbing my cheek, " That your idea of a warm welcome? "

Chris turns to me with a sheepish grin. " Oh. Sorry Alan, I didn't see you."

Why is it that whenever I'm around Chris little accidents like this happen? He was a walking jinx back at the HCF base. " That's alright, I've been hit with far worse than cooking utensils."

Jill laughs, using a pair of tongs to reach over and pluck a few well-done burgers off the grill and plop them into buns on a paper plate, " So has Chris."

" See? Women are evil." Chris decrees, casting his wife a mischievous smile.

Jill freezes, paper plate still in hand, staring at me, and from the looks of it I cannot tell if it is in a pleasant way.

" I just noticed your eyes aren't all catlike anymore. Something happen to your virus? "

" No," I admit, finishing off my Coke, " this is my natural eye color. I can actually see better when I turn my eyes all red and catlike, but that attracts attention. I just found out how to control my eyes like that…I sort've have to _will_ it to happen. My dad can't do it, hah! "

Chris bites his lip, studying my eyes. " Blue-green huh? Just out of curiosity, what color were Wesker's eyes? You know, before he got his virus? "

" They used to be green." I confess, remembering from years ago, " Solid green. My mother's were blue, so mine are like a combination."

Chris sighs sadly. " I wish I'd gotten a chance to know my other sister better. How'd she die, anyway? "

I think of Miles and Dr. Otson, and crush my now-empty pop can until it is just a compact mess of aluminum the size of a quarter. Those jerks! How could they do that?

They got what they deserved.

Chris backs away, eyes glued on what used to be a Coke can.

" Some stupid mad scientist had wires going through her body! When I tried to help her, they ended up shooting her! "

I heave a sigh and toss the quarter-sized pop can down at Chris's feet.

The bastards responsible paid with their lives, there's no sense in getting all riled up over it now.

" Um…Chris? I have to ask, do you remember where the old Spencer mansion my dad uh…betrayed you in…used to stand? "

Chris makes a face. " All too well……

******************************************************************************* 

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A/N: I know I said this was going to be the last chapter, but since it ended up being much longer than I'd expected, I thought I'd dice it in half so you don't strain your eyes trying to read to much at once….bwahahahaha! I also decided to do it this way so I don't torture you waiting for an update. ^_^ The next chapter will DEFINITELY be the last one though, I just had a lot of loose ends to tie up here. =^-^=

Gah, I need to learn to be a better woman of my word…. :(

Not that I think any of you will be complaining about an extra chapter though. ^^

****

Don't forget to do the review-thingie, reviews light up my life! ;)


	34. A Promise Fulfilled

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**Chapter 34**

Two days later finds me in the field out back out back of the S.T.A.R.S. inspecting a the chopper I plan to pilot to the Arklay Mountains. Everything must be in proper order before takeoff; we're in Oregon, the Midwest aint just across the street.

I have already cleared everything up with Chris, so no worries there. However, I wasn't as specific as to _why_ I wanted to take this little trip--when he asked I just said it was for personal interests and left it at that. The truth is too hard to believe--even I have to question it. No way I want Chris to think I'm some kind of a mental case. He's been through a lot of hard-to-believe stuff, but I'm not sure even he would believe in ghosts.

Everything looks A-okay. Let's see….I open my wallet and count the cash. Yep. I have enough money to pay for any extra gas I'll be needing. Looks like I'm ready to go then.

I round the front of the helicopter and nearly collide with Natasha and Alexis.

" Huh? What are you girls doing…."

" We're going with! " Natasha beams, grinning so wide it must be painful.

" Just for company." Alexis adds, shooting Natasha a look that could freeze Hell.

Oh boy. You could cut the tension with a knife.

However, I don't see any harm in taking them along for the ride. It's just a short mission, and the mansion was already reduced to powder. What could we possibly run across there?

Besides, it's a Sunday, the most boring day of the week. They probably have nothing else to do. I can relate to that. Boredom sucks.

My eyes shift to the helicopter. It's small, but it will hold three people at least semi-comfortably.

" Alright." I sigh, defeated. I pop open my door and climb into the pilot's seat, motioning the girls around to the passenger's side.

After a moment of studying panels to make doubly sure nothing is going to go wrong, I start the engine. That's when problems arise.

" Hey! _I _want to sit next to Alan! " Natasha protests the second Alexis sits in the co-pilot's seat conveniently located next to mine.

" So? I was here first! " Alexis returns, a bit of the traditional Ashford snobbery seeping in to color her voice for just that statement.

" But Alan _needs _me! " Natasha insists, and I feel like bashing my head against the dash.

" You have no idea what Alan needs."

" I know what your _face_ needs! "

I've had enough. " Ladies! Please! What are we, in an episode of Josie and the Pussycats? "

Natasha freezes, her face beginning to flood with color, and it's all too obvious that she still has quite the crush on me despite our little drama a couple days ago.

" Sorry. I…I guess I can sit in the back." She climbs over Alexis and into the back seat-bar. Apparently the back seat was designed for small children--which, now that I think of it is rather odd--and Natasha is a tight squeeze. There is almost no room for her to move around in and she doesn't look at all comfortable.

I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

Lucky for her the Arklay Mountains shouldn't be _too_ long a trip. Well, not as long as the trip to Africa, anyway.

Alexis shuts the open door automatically, giving me the thumbs-up for takeoff.

Time to fly.

X-x-X

Following Chris's directions and a few maps of the area, I am able to locate Raccoon City after 1,700 miles of almost non-stop flight. Or what's left of it, anyway.

Turns out they didn't decide to rebuild it. Debris from businesses, buildings, and houses lye scattered all over for miles. Pieces of broken road can still be seen running through the land like the scabs of slowly-healing cuts. So very obvious that nobody even tried to clean it up. A lot of the vegetation has grown back; the wilderness is starting to reclaim it.

I wonder where the old S.T.A.R.S. used to stand? Not that it matters anymore, I'm just kinda curious.

" Wow, would ya look at that." Alexis marvels, staring out the windshield onto the scene below. " All that because of the T-virus? "

" And G," I add, " Can't forget the G. I used to live there once. Wasn't bad, but things went straight to Hell pretty quick once the viruses broke out. By then I was gone though. Dad knew what was going on all along."

" I left after my dad didn't come back." Natasha sighs, " I guess I was one of the lucky ones though. Some people lost more than I did."

I don't have a reply for that. What my father did to Enrico was nothing short of cold-blooded and horrible. One of the many reasons why I hate being referred to as Wesker Jr.

After Raccoon City, it is a short trip to the Arklay Mountains. Now for the trickier part. Switching my eyes to virus mode, I scan the area as if through binoculars, taking in every minute detail that might lead me to the place where the Spencer mansion once stood. Lots of trees, rivers, and beautiful lush green scenery…hard to imagine this was once the stage to a viral nightmare. The forest is breathtaking. Whatever happened at Spencer thankfully did not spread there.

Something shines down on the ground…a piece of aluminum glinting at just the right angle in the sunlight. I notice that the whole are surrounding it--while covered in grasses, shrubs, and flowers--is lacking of big trees or any older plant life. It all looks…newer. Exactly what you'd expect six years after an explosion. A big cement square with a still hugely-visible white 'H' enclosed in a circle springs into view amidst a square of rocky rubble.

The old helipad. It's mostly free of debris, and about the only level place to set 'er down.

" Heads up, we're coming in for a landing." I inform my passengers, brining the chopper down slowly even as I speak.

" Thanks for the warning," Alexis laughs, " Chris tells me you still have a few things to learn about aircraft."

" Yeah, and who better to take advice from than the guy who got kicked out of the Air Force? " I return lightly, playing her game.

I'm usually pretty good with choppers, except that sometimes I do tend to set them down a tad too roughly. Sometimes. I hold my breath as the ground rushes up to meet us.

Luckily today is not one of those days and we have a gentle landing.

I hurry out and into the brisk mountain air. It's pretty cold out despite the almost unobstructed rays of the sun, which, I suppose, should come as no surprise for this time of year.

Seconds later and I get Alexis's reaction. " Brrrr! It's cold out here! "

" Colder than a well-digger's butt." I agree, beginning to wish I'd brought a coat.

Like the supertyrants, I don't like the cold. Besides being genuinely uncomfortable it slows my virus down. My reaction times aren't as quick, my healing process takes twice as long, and I generally move a little slower.

I continue around to the other side of the chopper where Alexis stands dressed for a mild day with only a purple sweater to fight the cold.

" Drat! I knew we were going to the mountains…where _was_ my mind today? I should've brought along my warm winter coat." She says, rubbing her hands together.

" Hindsight is always twenty-twenty." I agree, feeling rather stupid myself for forgetting the wonderful invention of the coat. " Oh well, we won't be here for long. Hopefully."

Natasha stretches in the sunlight, seeming unfazed by the weather. " Really? That's too bad, I love it up here! It's _soo_ beautiful and refreshingly cool."

I cock an eyebrow. " You mean you're not cold? "

She shakes her head, flashing me a grin. " Nuh-uh. You two must be cold-blooded."

Cold-blooded or not, I don't want to stay here longer than what's necessary. This place gives me the creeps, especially when I think of all the lives lost here. Not that I'm scared, I just feel like I'm treading over a whole bunch of people's graves. That's kinda disrespectful, and not at all a good feeling.

" Come on." I motion for them to follow and head straight for a large pile of rubble.

It might help if I actually knew where I was going. How the heck am I supposed to find a little letter in this big of an area? _Geesh, Enrico, you could've been more specific. _I think dryly, _How the heck am I supposed to know where the underground caverns were? _I swear, he totally glossed over that tiny detail.

A chilling breeze flares up and I catch a whiff of it, testing the air. Ugh, I can smell the landfill Natasha mentioned awhile ago in full stinky detail. It is a ways off; Natasha and Alexis most likely will not smell it. Aside from that, only natural smells reach my nose this time. Pine, animals, wood, leaves, mud, more pine…nice earthy smells. No viruses. There probably isn't a virus within miles of here, save my own.

So good to know. Nothing will ruin a party faster than zombies and monsters.

" Alan, where exactly are we going? " Natasha wants to know.

Good question.

" I'm looking for something." I answer flatly.

_Come on Enrico, give me a sign already! I'm not going to be able to find a teeny piece of paper in a hidden underground cavern without a tiny bit of supernatural help._ It's like looking for a needle in a haystack; which, by the way, I've done before, and it's used as an analogy for difficulty for a reason.

" What are you looking for? Maybe we could help find it." Alexis offers helpfully.

" Sorry I don't think you could."

" Oh. Must be one of those super-senses deals then, huh? "

" Something like that."

_Come on Enrico, _I silently pray, _You've got me where you want me, I'm not going to wait up here all day._

As if in reply, another blast of chill wind blows up, hitting me in the face with the ferocity of a thousand icy pins.

If that was an answer, I don't appreciate it.

Then…a wild chattering, inaudible to normal human ears. Sounds like a small animal…squirrel, perhaps? I look over to the far left and catch sight of the little creature atop a large mound of debris a hundred yards off, busily chattering away with an almost supernatural passion.

Brown coat, bushy tail…yep, it's a squirrel. And it's staring right at me with very un-squirrel-like intensity, thumping it's tail and clicking it's teeth.

Something's up. Perhaps this is my sign.

Pushing all other thoughts aside for the moment, I zip off towards it, leaping jutting pipes and various uneven rubble hurdles with fluid ease. Within about three seconds I have reached my furry friend.

Three hundred feet in three seconds…that's not bad. Perhaps some other time I will convert it into miles-per-hour just for kicks.

" Alan? " Alexis calls, probably wondering where the heck I went.

The squirrel is at my feet now, but seems oddly relaxed. Instead of running from me, it turns and starts scratching at the rocks with it's tiny claws. It Doesn't take Einstein to figure out that it wants me to dig. I've learned not to question weirdness anymore. Just kinda have to go with the flow.

The area in question is littered with large chunks of mansion wall, bits of twisted metal jutting out at odd angles, and splintered wood weathered from years of exposure to the elements. They all look pretty heavy.

Not a problem.

I start to work right away, lifting pieces of mansion and tossing them to the side. The squirrel, satisfied that I have caught on, runs off and into the woods having played it's part.

If ever I had doubts, now I am sure that was my sign-squirrel. A normal squirrel would've ran from me much sooner.

" Hey! What was the big idea running off and leaving us like that? " Natasha huffs, having caught up with me, " Man you're fast! Warn me next time, k? "

I continue my excavation without answering.

" What are you doing? " Alexis asks, and since _what_ I am doing is painfully obvious, I know her question is more along the lines of '_Why are you throwing all that stuff around?_'

" Eh, acting on a little hunch I have." I admit, " I think there's something under here."

Alexis backs off a bit, stumbling a little over a charred piece of twisted pipe in the process. " Chris and Jill told me all about this place. They said the Spencer mansion was evil and filled with all sorts of terrible monsters."

" It was." I agree.

She cocks an eyebrow. " You were there? "

" No, but my father was. Believe me, I got the inside traitor's scoop on the happenings of that place. Zombies everywhere. A giant snake. Big spiders, zombie-dogs, mutated sharks, hunters, carnivorous Plant 42, Lisa Trevor. Not to mention our good friend Mr. Tyrant."

" Speaking of which, something Chris and the others, including me, are curious about: how did your dad survive being run-through by the tyrant's big claws? "

I chuck a big square of concrete easily weighing over six hundred pounds several yards off to the side before answering. " Easy. For some reason or another, he had the vial of the T-2 virus in his pocket prior to being shish-kebabed. Once Tyrant did it's thing with the claws he used the last of his strength to inject himself with it. I have no idea where or how he got it only that he had to sell his soul and that Birkin originally created it but somehow managed to lose possession of it somewhere along the line. For some reason, Dad doesn't want me to know the full details, which is rather odd. He usually shares everything with me."

As I finish the story, I have likewise finished clearing the debris away to expose a smallish pit opening into the ground. The stench of decay hits me like a wave.

Yuck. Smells like zombie breath down there. Too bad I'm going to have to go in. The jobs I take.

" You going down there? " Natasha asks, making a face when the stench hits her nose, too.

I sigh. " Yep. Morbid curiosity. You and Alexis stay up here, it's bound to be awfully dark down there and you don't have night-vision like I do. I'll be back up in a few."

I leap down into the blackness of the pit. The shaft turns out to be longer than I'd thought. I land on my feet at the bottom with enough force to shatter every bone in my ankles were I not superhuman. However, I _am_ superhuman, ergo no broken bones. Doesn't exactly feel like a nice walk barefoot through a shag carpet though. Ouch.

" Alan, you alright? " Alexis's voice calls from above.

Overhead the silhouette of her head peering down the pit blots out part of the daylight. Looks a long way up, probably about sixty feet or more.

I may as well have just jumped off a six story building. " Yeah, I'm fine." I call up, " Stand by, I wont be long."

As my eyes adjust, to the light, I notice a metal ladder hugging the dirt wall behind me and leading straight up to daylight.

Naturally. Now I feel like a flunkie from the School of Dumb. Fell twenty yards for nothing. That'll teach me to leap without looking.

My cat's eyes adjust perfectly to the darkness, taking in every tiniest minuscule shred of light and refracting it a hundred fold, allowing me to see clearly down the adjoining tunnel as easily as if it were bathed in a spotlight. In addition to refracting light, part of the reason I see so well in utter darkness is that the cells in my eyes actually have the ability to _produce _light, which is why I can glow them when I feel so inclined.

Come to think of it, I probably see better than a cat in total darkness.

The shaft leads into a grimy old system of underground tunnels, the walls coated in a think blanket of green slime.

A dead body of what was once an Umbrella scientist lays not twenty feet in front of me, all rotted and bare bones with only a few shreds of tissue and cloth hanging on, the moisture of the tunnel keeping it well irrigated and the perfect breeding spot for the tiny insects eating away at the flesh…

I turn my head away, extra grossed-out. Yuck. So that's what I'm smelling. The T-virus that was no doubt in his body has long since died out, but that doesn't make it any less disgusting.

Carefully, I step over the body and continue down the tunnel to the place where it forks in two.

Now which way?

The left splits up into even more tunnels several feet down, but the right ends in a blockade of rubble. A hunch points me to the rubble.

Wincing at the terrible odor, I step over the rancid remains of a hunter killed by magnum and start pulling rocks from the pile. No sooner are the first two dislodged than a yellowed piece of paper slips into my hand.

This must be it. I know I really shouldn't, but the temptation to read the last will and testament of Enrico Marini is too strong to resist. Gingerly, I unfold the paper. The cursive letters are all carefully crafted in a black ink and dated 7-24. I begin to read:

_My Dearest Natasha,_

If you're reading this then it can only mean I did not survive the horrific events at the Spencer Mansion. I'm sorry, I tried. Though the next that I tell you may be too incredible to believe, you have to be warned of the truth: Umbrella's behind everything. There was a spill of a dangerous virus at the mansion in which they have been conducting dangerous and illegal experiments for years. This virus turns everyone who comes into contact with it into the living dead: that is to say, mindless bloodthirsty zombies roaming around preying on the living. Even as I write this they are pounding at the door to the room, desperately trying to get through to me. Should I get bitten, it will be curtains. Even if I escape I will have contracted the virus. I pray this doesn't happen. Better to be dead than to be one of those soulless things.

Everything about this place is wrong--even the dogs are hideous monsters with a craving for raw flesh. We're trapped in here, me and the surviving Stars, thanks to that traitor 'Captain' Wesker. I came across his written orders from Umbrella to lure us into the mansion and collect combat data on us. He was in league with them all along and we didn't even know it! Unfortunately, Wesker came across me coming across his written orders and tried to shoot me. I managed to lose him, but it was a close call. Should we meet again I know he will not hesitate to kill me. I have evidence that could put him away for good. Now you know the truth

So sorry I can't be there for you, but the important thing now is that you leave Raccoon City and never come back. Get as far away as you can. It wont be long before the virus will inevitably spread to the surrounding areas, and I hope you are long gone when that happens. Warn everyone who will listen. Since you're my only close living relation, everything that was mine is now yours. I have only one request: I know you will not be thrilled with the idea of keeping Sebastian, so please, could you find him a good home?

I love you. I will always love you. Now you must stand alone and face the world without me. Be strong. Don't give up, gotta keep a positive outlook on life and live every day as if it were your last, because you never know when it will be. I wish the best for you and hope you will lead a long and happy life. Your mother and I will be watching from Heaven.

All my love and wishes,

Dad 

I refold the letter. That was sad. Enrico seems to have had his facts straight though; everything he mentioned matches what I have heard from Dad.

It really is a shame what happened to Enrico and the S.T.A.R.S. I wish I could go back in time and help them. With my virus, of course. That way I could actually _be_ a help.

But there's no use fantasizing about things that aren't going to happen, might as well head back up and get this to Natasha.

I double back the way I came, covering the distance in a matter of seconds, and halt underneath the opening to the shaft. Sixty feet 'ey? That shouldn't be too hard. Ladders are for sissies. With a mighty leap I shoot up, sailing over the lip of the pit and landing a few feet away from a startled Alexis.

" What was that all about? "

" It's about Natasha, actually. Acted on some inside information and was able to find this." Natasha approaches as I speak, and I hand her the letter.

There. Mission accomplished.

Enrico oughta be able to rest in peace now.

x-X-x

Natasha cried a little when she read that letter. The trip home is a sad one, filled with a lot sympathy from Alexis and awkward silence from me.

What can I say? It was all because of my father that the S.T.A.R.S. ever got in that situation and he killed Enrico in cold blood. This puts me in a very tight spot indeed. Bad enough when a friend loses a parent, even worse when the murderer is _your _parent.

Somewhere between Colorado and Oregon, Natasha asks if I would care to adopt Sebastian and I agree. Enrico was right: his daughter is not a cat person. I find it rather touching though that she held onto the animal for all those years just for his sake. That speaks volumes right there.

Natasha is not a bad person. Annoying, yes. Especially when it comes to me. There's definitely room for improvement, but underneath it all she really is sweet. Must have been hard on her losing her parents at a young age like that.

For better or for worse, I still have my father and sister, plus all the Redfields I just barely in the last few days found out I'm halfway related to. Natasha has no one.

I feel sorry for her. She just wants to be noticed and loved.

Don't we all?

A few nights later find me sitting outside on the front porch of Alexis's house stroking Sebastian. The black and white kitty purrs and then rolls over onto his back, inviting me to pet his tummy.

I do, and his purr intensifies all the louder.

Natasha brought the cat over before saying goodbye just last night. Turns out she has a nice little house in California she wanted to get back to, so she had to make an extra trip back there, up here, and then back again just to get the little kitty to me. A really sweet move on her part, and Sebastian seems to be fitting in just fine, especially with Alexis. She just loves him to death and we spoil him all the time with kitty treats and little catnip mice. In return he keeps us company and purrs up against our legs when we least expect it.

I can see why Enrico liked this cat so much, he's very affectionate and lovable.

At least it is not cold…tonight's actually kinda warm out…the starts twinkle merrily overhead, looking even brighter to me. A few dogs bark out in the distance. Their owners yell at them. Cars whiz up and down the streets. Typical night.

Suddenly, the door swings open, hitting my backside.

" Oops! Sorry Alan, didn't know you were there." Alexis steps out, dressed in jeans and a fuzzy warm sweater. Her blonde hair glints silver in the moonlight. I am anything but upset.

" S'alright." I stand up, stretch, " What self-respecting guy would mind being conked on the rear by a beautiful girl? "

She reaches down to pet the kitty. " Um…a gay guy? "

I frown. " Oh sure, I bet you think you're being pretty funny."

She straightens back up and looks up at the stars, completely ignoring my last comment. " Wow. They're beautiful tonight."

That's when it hits the birth of a great idea! " Would you like to see them better? " I offer, knowing all too well what her answer will be.

" Well sure, if you can…" I don't wait for her to finish. Instead, I scoop her up into my arms. " Alan, what are you…"

I leap up and land on top of the roof, setting her down gently. " There we go." Some days you gotta work for it, some days it just comes to you.

A sly smile crosses her face. " Now who's being funny? "

I sit down on the roof's crease, enjoying my high-and-mighty housetop position. I always did like an area with a view. Especially once I got heightened eyesight. My eyes are in full red-and-gold glory now, there is no need to hide them at night when nobody who shouldn't see is around. " Take it easy there, Miss Ashford. You were the one who wanted to see the stars better."

She laughs, taking a seat next to me, and gently nuzzles my side. " Never a dull moment with you around, Virus-Boy."

I give her a lopsided grin. " What, you taking a leaf out of Steve's book now? "

I stroke her hair softly, trying not to think of my last visuals of Alexia that are for some reason trying to push their way into my mind.

Our heads touch.

" That reminds me…what are you going to wear to the wedding? "

Wedding?

Did I miss something?

" Wedding? " I repeat, staring ahead blankly, " There's a wedding now? "

" Of course silly! Steve and Claire's wedding. It's coming up in just a couple weeks you know."

" Oh, _that _wedding." I exclaim, feeling stupid for not remembering, " No, I actually haven't been giving it much thought." It is the truth. I was a little preoccupied with deaths and the whole African crisis in general.

She cuddles closer, leaning into me to stare up in wonder at the sky. " There's other big news…Claire's also pregnant. She just found out earlier today…I think she's like two weeks along now. You're going to get another cousin! "

_Or half cousin, as the case happens to be. _I think, but instead say, " Really? That's great! There won't be any problems lingering from her being…stabbed by Alexia and all, will there? "

" Naw, the doctors that examined her think she will be fine. The wound was too high up to be potentially dangerous."

" That's good to know."

So Claire's pregnant? Wow, that _is_ big news. If she's two weeks along it means she was pregnant the whole time we were in Africa. Seems like everyone's having kids lately. Chris and Jill, the Ashfords, now Claire and Steve…well okay, maybe not _everyone_. Carlos, Alexis, Natasha, and I have no kids. With my virus, I have to wonder if I even _can _father children. Not that I'd want to for another few years at least. I'm smart enough to know I'm not ready for that kind of a responsibility yet. Then there's the whole matter of getting married…all I can say is, why rush it? I still have plenty of time to think about all of that. Plenty of time to find the perfect someone; whom I'm starting more and more to believe is Alexis. Some people are ready to settle into family life at my age, some are not. I'm not.

Ready or not, Claire and Steve are going to be parents. It will be interesting to see if their first child is a boy or girl, what they'll name it, how it's personality will develop…and then I'll have to protect it from my dad. He's never going to leave the S.T.A.R.S. alone. He has too much hate in his heart; he can't let go.

It is a grim truth, but one I must accept. My father is going to be stalking me and the S.T.A.R.S. with his last breath. It's not a matter of if, but _when_ I see him again. I dread the encounter. He went from being a father standing by my side to being a problem standing in my way. A problem that I'm still not quite sure how to deal with.

My gaze drifts up; rests on a sparkling, shining white star brighter than the rest. A beacon in the darkness, outshining it's brethren of the sky. It reminds me of hope, hope that things can turn out for the best, hope that everything will be okay in the end, hope that maybe one day my father will finally come to his senses before it's too late. Lot's of hopes, hopes for the future.

The future.

I wonder if I'll be prepared to do what must be done.

As the night wears on, I wonder many things….

Fin


	35. ALTERNATE ENDING

****

A/N: _Okay, the first thing you're going to notice is that I changed my penname from Shady-777 to Shady Ashford. Visit my bio for details on why. I'll just say that a glitch in the system kept me from updating until I ditched my former name. (( Grrr )) I am trying very hard to get my Shady-777 name back. In the meantime, I'm going under Shady Ashford because that is the only other name fan-ficcers know me by._

I was originally going to post this with my new Chapter 31 of CofV, but then a nauseating wave of loss of creativity and desire for writing hit me and I have not quite finished that chapter yet. It's about 80 percent done, it just still needs a few parts added and some tweaking.

This is an alternate ending to CA that I first was going to have be the true CA ending, but then decided against it. For over a year it's been languishing in the darkest reaches of my computer-shut out and neglected. I thought this was too poor of quality to show, and I decided to go an entirely different direction with the ending of CA.

This is the first time I have posted this on any site, and now you can see the way I almost went. I don't consider this to be the best example of my writing, but I leave you to your own opinions. The ending will seem abrupt, and that was just where I stopped. That was the point in which I decided to change the storyline, so I never finished.

**ALTERNATE ENDING**

After landing the chopper behind the S.T.A.R.S. building, we decide to go in and pay everyone a visit before heading home, since I have to return the chopper keys anyway. I switch my eyes to normal-mode and everything blurs up real fast. I'm really starting to miss my shades. I'm so used to seeing things in much sharper detail that now even better than twenty-twenty eyesight feels like I'm running around half blind.

We are met at the front desk by a red-headed female other than Stacy. Her name-tag reads 'Katrina.'

" Oh hi Alexis! " She greets with a smile, " I see you've brought along some friends. And who might they be? " She eyes me up and down like a piece of candy.

Good lord, the woman must be fifty years old! I attract all types and ages obviously. It's not the first time I've had an older woman give me the look. The first time it happened I was only twenty-one and Dad laughed. That is, he laughed up until the grandma happened to catch sight of _him_. Now _that_ was funny!

" Alan and Natasha." Alexis introduces, " Alan and Natasha, this is Katrina, one of the other secretaries."

" Hi." I wave a few fingers in her direction.

" Alan just joined the S.T.A.R.S. team." Alexis supplies proudly, " He's just coming to return the keys to a helicopter."

Katrina cocks an interested eyebrow. " Really? S.T.A.R.S., wow. You must have some skill. You know what team you're going to be on yet? "

" I'm…not sure." I admit awkwardly. Though I easily have the skill to be an Alpha, I wouldn't be surprised if Chris starts me out on Bravo.

" Heh, well I hate to tell you this, Alan, but the S.T.A.R.S. aren't in right now. Something came up and they had to leave."

That sends a nice chill up my spine. " Leave? Where to? " S.T.A.R.S. office hours aren't over yet, and Chris told me he'd be here to take the keys when I came back. It seems very odd that everyone would just up and leave.

Katrina is thoughtful. " I don't know Sweetcakes, but it did seem awfully important. They all left without telling anyone. Must've been an emergency. I have their house number if you'd like to…."

" No, that's alright. I think we can find them." Alexis grabs my arm and starts pulling me towards the door, her expression very worried.

" See you later! " I call, trying my best to pretend that I didn't hear the word 'Sweetcakes' used in referring to me.

" Something's seriously wrong here." Alexis continues once we are outside and heading to her Jag, " Chris always stays past six on workdays unless it's something really bad."

" I'll take your word for it." Natasha remarks, the faintest start of concern registering on her face.

This feels wrong. I hope everyone is okay.

We pile in the jag without another word and Alexis floors it, breaking the speed limit by a good 15 mph on our way home. The second we pull into her driveway Sherry bursts out from the Redfield residence, Seth and Crystal hot on her heels.

Her frantic worried look confirms my worst fears.

" It's Rebecca!" She says, her words excited and rushed, " They had to rush her to the hospital, she's not doing well! "

" Ohmigod, what's wrong? " Natasha asks before I get the chance to.

Sherry shakes her head, obviously distressed. " I don't know, one minute she was feeling fine-chipper even, the next she just passed out on the floor. We don't know what's wrong with her…the others all rushed her to the emergency room. They told me to tell you when you got back."

_My virus. _I think bitterly, _Just as I feared. _There's no doubt in my mind that that's what happened to poor Becca. " When did this happen? "

" Just over an hour ago. They left me with the kids…haven't heard back from them since."

I turn to Alexis. " Alexis. Hospital."

She nods, " Let's go."

I sit up front in the passenger's seat and Natasha spills back into the back.

Normally I like to drive, but I don't know my way around Bayview for beans.

We take off, and I can only pray we're not too late.

XXX

We reach the emergency section of the Bayview hospital in record time and quickly find the room where Chris and the others await news in a grim waiting room with a single television set featuring a baseball game nobody is watching.

I take the last available seat next to Chris and Jill, forcing Alexis and Natasha to a separate string of seats where Carlos, Steve, and Claire await.

" What happened? " I ask, even though I already know.

" She was fine one minute, the next she was gasping for breath and burning up with a fever." Chris explains, looking on the verge of tears.

" The doctors say they found a foreign virus in her system unlike any they'd ever encountered before." Jill continues somberly. Slowly, she turns her head to me. " Alan? What do you know about the T-2? "

" Not a helluva a lot." I admit, angry and scared and sad all at once, " Dad wanted to keep me in the dark as much as possible about it. All I know for a fact is that Birkin made it and I haven't suffered any ill effects from it."

" Well why would it hurt her and not you? " Chris growls, getting a little snippety with me.

" Look, I don't know, okay? I'm not that one who created it! "

This rouses some odd stares from an elderly couple sitting a ways off, the only other people present in the room.

Oops. Guess I spoke a little too loudly

We quiet down and the next few minutes pass by in silence.

I knew there was a risk giving her my virus, I just _knew_ it. Though I'm not sure why the T-2 would hurt her after seemingly helping her. It makes no sense.

It also doesn't make sense that the virus would benefit Dad and I for all these years with no side effects if it's doing this to poor Rebecca.

Of course, this again begs the question of what I actually know about the nature of this virus, which is practically squat. I know that it gives me all these superhuman abilities and that's it.

I don't know why it would attack Rebecca.

My mind flashes back to Africa, back to the little conversation in the lab-room between Chris, Dad, and I:

_" So, how's Rebecca doing? " Dad had asked being his usual jerk self._

" She'll live." Chris threw defiantly.

" Really? I didn't expect such a positive prognosis with a lacerated liver."

" I healed it." I stated.

" Is that so? I'll bet you think you're a true friend…..you must've given her your blood. That should be interesting!"

" What? Is something going to happen to her? "

" Hmm…maybe."

He knew. He knew all along. Dad's been keeping secrets from me, he _intentionally_ doesn't want me to know too much about our virus!

But why?

In Rebecca's case, I think the answer is painfully obvious.

T-2 virus isn't for everyone.

But I gave it to her only because she would've died without it, I was trying to _save_ her!

My thoughts of my father are not pleasant just now.

A minute later, the doctor walks in, and his grave expression gives it all away. " We're sorry….we did all we could, but her temperature surpassed 108 degrees… she's gone."

Damn. I bow my head, saddened. Even though I didn't know Rebecca that well, she was a good person. Another good person that my father murdered. She would've died sooner without my help, but either way she was destined to die.

There was nothing I could've done.

Nothing…..

" Can we…can we see her? " Claire stammers, in a state of shock.

The doctor nods. " They're unhooking her from the life-support right now. Should be a few minutes."

He walks back through the door.

By some eerie freak of coincidence, my cell phone rings.

_Dad._

I reach and my pocket and pull the device out, only to note that the sound is not coming from _my_ cell phone.

Chris pulls his from his pocket. " Sherry? I…"

" How's Rebecca doing? " A mocking voice that is definitely not Sherry's purrs from the other end, " Let me guess, dead? Muwahahahahahahahahahahah! "

Chris totally loses it. " Wesker! How the hell did he got my cell number! " He throws the cell phone against the opposite wall where it explodes upon impact.

He stands at once, beside himself with rage.

" _You! _" He turns to me, eyes burning with hatred, " Did you give him my number! "

" Of course I didn't! Why would I do something stupid like that? "

Chris charges me, so mad he can't see straight.

Taking advantage of my surprise he knocks me off the chair pins me to the floor.

" Chris! Alan didn't…." Claire starts, talking at the same time as Jill and coming to pull him off, not that I need help.

Chris's position over me doesn't last more than a second.

I shove out with both hands and send him flying backwards.

A bunch of hospital personnel arrive just as I am getting up. The head doctor looks from me to Chris, then back again.

" You two guys had better leave." He says coldly.

" Sure. Fine." I start out the door, giving Chris the evil eye. Thanks to his anger problem we won't be able to see Rebecca for awhile.

Chris doesn't move.

" Well, come on, you too." The chief doctor points at Chris, " This is a hospital, not out back of a bar."

With a glower that could freeze Hell Chris complies, following me to the exit.

" And for Heaven's sake try to be civil to each other, or else we'll end up treating you too."

Another bad time to be a Wesker. I think I will pay him a call later on tonight and give him a piece of my mind. That was totally uncalled for. Making fun of people's death….and half of my biology comes from this cretin? It's like being related to Hitler.

I can't believe he'd be so cruel!

Ok, actually I can. After all, this is the same guy who tried to kill little kids. He never liked Rebecca, either.

Once we are outside, Chris addresses me. " Sorry about what happened in there….that wasn't the smartest move on my part."

" Darn right it wasn't." I grump, " Thanks to you we both got kicked out."

" Also wasn't smart trying to take on someone with the T-2 virus." He sounds embarrassed.

I raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze. " Yeah well…you were angry. That's understandable. I really have no idea how my father managed to get your number. Really. He's the one to blame here, I was only trying to save Rebecca. Without my blood, she would've died sooner. At least this way we got to enjoy her a little longer."

Chris sighs, defeated. " You're right….it's just…how come your blood made her feel better and then kill her? Yet you and your bastard father have had it for years and all it ever did was make you damn near invincible. It doesn't make any sense."

" No it doesn't." I agree, " Something's up. My father has been deliberately hiding the truth from me. He knew this would happen to Rebecca. That means he knows a great deal more than he's been telling me."

He settles down on a wooden bench in the front lawn, and I follow suite.

He buries his face in his hands, shaking his head. " Why her? Why now? Hasn't he destroyed our lives enough already? That dirty sonuva…." He stops, raising his head from his hands to look at me. " Sorry."

" Hey, I understand completely. My father's one cold-hearted, evil person. He wants to kill you all. But he's in Europe right now…."

" How do you know? "

I sigh. " He called me too." I grab my cell phone and hold it up for him to see.

He shakes his head. " Seems like he's always a step ahead of us! "

" Not always," I admit, " Why, he didn't even know where you were for over four years after the HCF incident."

" Thanks for the big comfort. Look, sorry again about the hospital, it's just you look so much like Wesker that I…." He trails off, embarrassed by his behavior. He made himself look like an ass in front of all his friends. That's enough to shame anybody, especially somebody who's supposed to be the cool and collected leader of a unit.

I nod, knowing what he is trying to say. " I know." I mutter darkly, " No need to feel bad…I sure was pissed when those assholes killed my mother. At least you didn't kill anyone."

Chris's eyes widen, and he looks to me in a new light. " You…the people who killed your mother, you didn't…kill them…did you? "

I'm not sure exactly how I look right now, but it's probably pretty dangerous and threatening.

" What do you think? " I ask gravely, my voice dead-serious and barely above a whisper.

Chris doesn't press. He gets the idea. " Oh, I've been meaning to tell you…you made the team."

" I did? " My attempt at sounding surprised.

Chris nods. " Yeah. You've proven more than once that we can count on you. If it weren't for you, I'm sure more of us would've died in Africa…."

" If it weren't for me nobody would've _been_ in Africa." I point out, not feeling like such a hero just now.

Chris is honest. " Eh…true, but if it's to any consolation, _I_ think you did the right thing. Why, if it were _my_ mother, and _my_ sister, I would've been right there too getting every square inch of my ass kicked by Wesker, Ashfords, and supertyrants. I do tend to get rather crazy when people I love are involved."

" Me too." I confess, feeling a little better. Chris is right. People do tend to do stupid things when they think the lives of their loved ones are threatened.

" So you're a bona-fide Alpha member now." He continues, giving me a friendly pat on the back, " Welcome to the team, Nephew. I was considering training you more, but decided against it when I realized that even without your virus you're probably a better fighter than me. For as much as I hate his guts your father is a very skilled fighter. He was Captain of our team for a reason. And since he's been training you for over the years…there's nothing more I can teach you." He shakes his head, looking sick. " Poor Rebecca. I…I just couldn't get to her in time. First Barry now Rebecca….I still can't believe they're gone."

I don't have anything to say to that. My first week in Bayview and already things have went straight down the toilet.

XXX

It rained all day on the day of Rebecca's funeral. We held a service outside her plot in the graveyard, watched as her casket was laid to rest. Lots of people were crying, I even suspect I shed a tear.

In the cases of the others, we didn't have to worry about the bodies.

It just isn't quite the same when you witness an actual burial. It punctuates further beyond the shadow of a doubt that your loved one is really gone.

XXX

Feedback would be much appreciated!


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